


Menteur

by LeelaLaFleur



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Other, Time Travel, mild canon divergence after the 6th book, the good guys've lost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-03-02 19:22:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 46,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2823263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeelaLaFleur/pseuds/LeelaLaFleur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been almost three years since the Order has lost the Battle of Hogwarts and Hermione and Harry are now the last known survivors in hiding. Through an accident Hermione is send back in time to 1943 and with all the other options exhausted, she decides to take the destiny of the whole world into her own hands. But facing young Voldemort becomes harder and harder, as she slowly starts to succumb to the temptation of power and the Dark Arts....it's really not smutty, but very much Hermione-centric!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Menteur: Prequel

April 25, 1944

I cup the torn material of my jeans in my hand and roughly press it down on my thigh in attempt to stop the bleeding. I bite my lip in pain when the damp fabric makes contact with the exposed injury.

My hands shiver and there doesn't seem to be enough air in my lungs. I pull my healthy leg as close to my chest as possible. This always used to calm me and make me feel warmer on the cold nights back in London, but not today. Maybe it's due to the fact that I'm sitting on a dark stone floor cover in icy water, injured, or maybe it's because deep inside I know that I'm not going to live to see another sunrise.

I can hear them coming closer with every second. I curse under my breath and think of my best friend. Where is he? After all, he IS the hero and I... I wasn't even supposed to be here… but yet all somehow seems to fit in. With a past like mine, I knew I wouldn't live long. I never had this disillusion of surviving and living happyly ever after, but now, when I'm so close to death, I can't help but feel scared and empty. Harry...

At the thought of my best friend, I look down at the object in my hand and suddenly I can breath again. A massive wave of energy washes over me as I realize; I have to protect Harry and others at any cost! I tighten my grip on the small octagonal object hanging loosely on a small chain around my neck. I would almost concider it beautiful, with its sleek and clear surface and petite aqua colored looking glass sitting tightly in the middle...almost...

They are here. I can hear their voices just behind the corner. Any second now they will spot me.

I give the cursed object one more quick look. They cannot find it! With one swift swing of my arm I tear it off of the chain and with another I toss the pegant into a dark corner to my left. I have no time to watch it disappear in the water, because the door fly open and they march in, following the blood trail right towards my hiding spot. I hold my breath…it's here. Three of them charge straight towards me, their wands ready to kill. I can only assume, who is who, since my vision is blured from the continuing bloodloss. One yells at the others as soon as he sees me and within the seconds they're all around me, waiting for their master.

Then he walks into my field of view. I feel sick pleasure, when I notice he looks just as bad as I do. His left arm is turned in unnatural maner and I can tell he's doing everything in his power not to cry in pain. His head is injured as well. The fairly large gap on his forehead, which almost completely mended this morning, is bleeding, staining his porcelain skin a sticking to his hair. His face is turned into a disturbing scowl. It's not like I've never seen him angry, but usually he at least tries to hide it. Now, his eyes are narrowed into two slits, reminding me of Slytherin serpent, and of my eminent destiny.

He stands just a couple of feet away from where I'm sitting; my own wand is in his hand pointed at me. I raise my head defiantly and say with the sweetest tone possible: "Bonjour"

I don't even bother to fake my accent anymore, I think they all know I lied. He bends down and reaches for my throat, searching for the small necklace. When he finds only the broken chain, he looks into my eyes with a look of confusion. That quickly changes to surprise and than to back to anger. I smile. He knows I'm mocking him.

I might have lost, but you know what they say; when you go, go with boom… just couple more minutes…


	2. Everybody Knows

Menteur: Chapter 1: Everybody Knows  
September 13, 2001  
"So...ladies first!" announced Harry and stepped aside from the slime-covered rusty sewage's entrance. Hermione poked her head over his shoulder to get better view.  
Her nose wrinkled in disgust when her eyes landed on the small dark opening. It was just big enough for them to crawl through, that is, if they got on all fours and tucked their heads.  
"Oh, no. A gentleman should always go first, to make sure that it's safe for the lady to enter." she replied back with the sweetest smile she could manage. Harry rolled his eyes teasingly at his friend, but kneeled down anyway, and within next few seconds he disappeared in the darkness of the sewage.  
"Coming?" Harry hollered from inside.  
Hermione scanned the filthy ground in front of her and realized that she probably shouldn't have worn her favorite jeans. She sighed.  
"Do I really have to?"  
"Well..."started Harry, his voice echoing throughout the stone pipes, making it sound even more distant than it actually was. "If you know about some other way, you should have told me before I got in!" He chuckled lightly, but then continued in serious tone: "The main entrance is still caved in and I don't know of any other way to get in...Plus this seemed to work for the Basilisk just fine..."  
"Alright, alright." Hermione raised her hands in surrender, even though Harry couldn't see, and after ending her lumos spell and pocketing her wand, she also crawled into the opening. To her horror, there were at least three inches of water on the floor and soon enough the legs of her jeans were completely soaked. She tried really hard not to growl, as she swiftly followed Harry through the labyrinth of sewers and pipelines.  
After a couple minutes of dragging silence, disturbed only by their breathing and sounds of running water, Harry spoke up.  
"I think we are almost there."  
Due to the lack of any light and high noise distortion, Hermione did not realize how close he was until her face landed flat right on the Harry's behind. She angrily pushed him, or to be exact, his butt, forward to signal not only to continue their crawl but also her growing annoyance. This proved not to be the best idea, when a sharp shriek escaped Harry's lips and his body started to collapse in a sequence of maniacal movements. Hermione, who, in the impenetrable darkness, could only see her best friend's outline, grabbed the closest part of Harry's body, his ankle and before she knew it they were both speed-sliding down the steep slope of the sewer.  
They hit the hard stone ground with a loud thump, The Boy Who Lived first and Hermione right on top of him.  
"What the hell?" breathed out frightened Hermione, first quickly checking herself for any broken bones or cuts and then moving her full attention to the surroundings. They were, indeed, at the right place. Despite its most fearsome monster being gone, it was still the same dark miserable place; the Chamber of Secrets. Mostly it was just as she remembered, the stone walls covered in the lightest layer of green fungus giving it an emerald tint, the snake-decorated slopes framing the way to the back of the room, where the crown piece stood. The statue of Salazar Slytherin has seen better days, Hermione noted. Almost entire top left half was missing, probably being knocked off by the caved-in ceiling and there was a deep crack reaching from Salazar's mouth, across his cheek, all the way up to his bottom eyelid. Only real change in the chamber, outside of the aging damage, was the lack of water on the floor. It wasn't surprising, considering that Hogwarts has been shut for merely four years now, and so there was no water running through the sewers, therefore there was no chance of it leaking into the underground chamber, and the leftover of moisture was not enough to flood the floor like it used to be.  
"Mbphmm.." sounded from underneath Hermione. She carefully pulled herself off of Harry's flattened form, feeling little guilty for not realizing she's been slowly suffocating him with her weight sitting almost exclusively on his torso.  
"What?" she asked as soon as he caught his breath.  
"I said," Harry sucked some air in: "why did you push me down that sewer?" He repeated his question calmly.  
"I couldn't see. You stopped without warning." defended her choice Hermione.  
Harry's right brow disappeared in his hair in a mocking manner: "So you pushed me? Just like that?" He asked like he was seriously questioning her sanity and/or intelligence. Hermione herself understood the banality of this argument and decided to cut it short.  
"Whatever..." she rolled her eyes, but then continued in all seriousness: "Maybe we should stay here for the night." Harry's smile vanished as well and he nodded.  
"Yeah, we can start searching tomorrow. Let's just check for any dark charms there might be here...I mean, you can never be sure..." Harry wondered off slowly and pulled out his wand. Hermione simply mirrored his action and they both headed to the opposite corners of the chamber, mumbling different spells trying to detect any possible magic traps. Curly haired witch walked slowly with her wand clutched firmly in her outstretched hand. The dim white light of her Videros charm was illuminating the wall to her left and her eyes were watching attentively to any change in the coloring of the light; a.k.a. the easiest way to tell change in magical field around her. She was almost past the Salazar's statue, when the wand flickered gold. Hermione paused abruptly, trying to make as little movement as possible, and stretched her wanded arm closer to the statue pointing it directly at Salazar's nose. But nothing happened. The gold glow was gone. She reached out and traced the marble surface of the statue. Still there were no signs of magic. She was about to give up when her wand lit up again. It was near the ground at the edge of ancient wizard's beard, the small corner she just passed, considering it an unlikely trap place since no one would probably ever go there. Hermione carefully took two steps towards the place. Her wand glow again. She held her breath in anticipation. It was obvious the statue was not the source of the foreign magic, but what else then? It seemed to be coming from behind the statue. Hermione frowned. She had no clue what could it be. There was almost no space before the back side of the marble head connected to the wall behind it. She took another step to get closer look at the dark space, her wand illuminating the place. Yes, there definitely was something in the corner behind the statue. On the floor. She leaned forward and...  
"Aaaaghh!"  
Skeleton! It was a skeleton! No, it was more of a corpse! Hermione stared at it wide eyed and completely unable to move. This person, or what was left of it, was curled up in the sitting position in the darkness of Salazar's head. Its arms were curled tightly around itself and the skull, with some loose locks of grayish hair still attached to it, was turned upwards in an unnatural way. It looked almost in pain.  
"Herm-" started Harry, who just reached Hermione, but he stopped dead in his tracks as soon as the corpse came to his view. He wrapped his arm around Hermione to calm her down, although his eyes haven't left the dead body a single time.  
"Who do you think it is?" she asked quietly, coming back to her senses. For the first time in what seemed like hours Harry moved his sight onto his companion. Neither of them had any answers to that. Hermione's eyes slipped back to the unknown and then onto the floor in front of it, where her wand lied. She did not even know she dropped it. No matter how many people she saw die, she will never get used to it...  
She reached down for her wand and thoughtfully casted Videros again. To her surprise, the light emitted by her wand was pale white; no trace of other magic found. She frowned. She was almost positive she has found something. With an indecisive look she turned to Harry and stated in a heavy tone: "Well, it's nothing I guess..."  
Harry gave her a curt nod of approval and walked back to the middle of the room, where they have left their bags. Hermione glanced at the skeleton. It would also be the last time, if the small silver thing did not catch her eye. It was some sort of a silver chain hanging off of the person's collar bone. It was torn down the middle, the pendant missing. Hermione looked around if she can spot it, but it was nowhere to be found. Another thing she noticed was that her left femus was practically crushed in one place and her pelvis heavily damaged...yes, Hermione was pretty sure the corpse use to be a female...The young witch couldn't ignore the signs of fight on the body. But what was she fighting? Basilisk, perhaps. But what's with the necklace? Hermione highly doubted that the vicious snake monster would be interested in jewelry. How long has she been here? Did she die fighting or hiding?  
Her thought stream was interrupted by Harry calling her name. 'I'm getting oversensitive' thought Hermione, stood up and joined him by their packs. It was time to finish searching for dark spells and set up the camp.  
"It's all in Dippet's journal." explained Harry his assumptions as they were lying in their sleeping bags on the floor of the chamber.  
"I have a page of it." he added and to support his cause, pulled a piece of folded parchment out of his pockets. Hermione listened silently, taking all the information in.  
"Dippet wrote all about Voldemort, when he was still in school." he said, but Hermione only rewarded him with a very skeptical look. She wasn't sure, where is her friend going with it, but Dippet was never a good trustworthy source. Hogwart's ex-headmaster wasn't necessarily a bad person; just a very easily manipulated person, who spent his last years of work defeating Tom Riddle's crimes. Harry understood immediately and explained further: "Ok, I know how it sounds, but listen to this." He adjusted his round glasses and read out loud: "I am so pleased, as well as rest of the faculty, to see Tom have a real challenge. I can remember a time when he wasn’t working on his school work- that is, until now. He works too hard on his studies and a distraction might be just what he needs to fully enjoy what life has to offer outside of school limits. She seems to smitten people where ever she goes; even Albus took a liking in this girl. Just the other day, I heard some of my younger pupils calling her 'the Alfa'. It is, supposedly, referring to the outcome of a duel between them. She caused quite a damage to Mr. Riddle’s pride… makes me wonder about my own youth and how much times changed. We did not have to wear uniforms in my days- and then he goes on and on about…eh… fashion" Harry finished, expecting older witch's response. Hermione frowned and took the parchment in her own hands: "Like a best friend? I seriously doubt that. I mean, Voldemort has no morals, nor any feelings, so even if this so called best friend is real, Voldemort probably doesn't care or, more likely, has already killed them. Plus it would be hard to find one 70 years old woman, when we don't even know her name. She could be anywhere…"  
"I know, it sounds crazy,bBut what if it is true? This could be our advantage! We could still win!...It’s not like we have much to lose…" Harry whispered the last part, not from fear but rather from regret. Hermione watched his face fall and felt angst setting in her own heart. Could they still win?  
It was almost two years since the Battle of Hogwarts; almost two years since they’d lost. Voldemort and his army of Death Eaters, werewolves and giants have beaten them and it wasn't pretty. People were killed, the Hogwarts castle was destroyed and they barely made it out alive. She, Ron and Harry ran away after the last Order member was killed. Harry didn't want to go. He wanted to fight, but was dragged by Ron from a pointless death and Voldemort's ultimate victory, with nobody to stop him. So they ran. The tree of them spent a month or two hiding in Highlands of Scotland until one day, Harry decided to follow Voldemort and find anything to help him in his quest to get rid of the dark wizard. Ron disagreed, because he wanted to find rest of his family and survivors, if there were any, first. And so they split. Hermione and Ron stayed behind and Harry went after Voldemort.  
Hermione wanted to go with Harry, but Ron...didn't let her.  
Thoughts of past made Hermione feel uneasy. The time she spent with their deceased ginger friend didn't belong with her better memories, even though she assured herself, she did love him at the time. She reached out for the ring on her left hand and clutched her little fingers around it, still lost in thought.  
Harry noticed almost immediately the change in mood. She could tell that he knew something was wrong. Her eyes followed his sight to her ring. It was massive ring made out of 24carat gold with a large emerald gem in the middle. Very detailed carvings of Latin writing and different images of animals and nature were covering the whole base up to point where the small silver leaves held the shining green rock in place.  
"Hermione," there was a heavy pause: "How did Ron die?"  
She didn't want him to bring this up, but Harry was very perceptive and it was almost expected.  
Young witch decided there was no point in lying and answered: "I don't know...” It was the truth. She had no idea; she wasn't there when he was killed. She read it in a newspaper somebody left sitting on a bench in Hogsmeade. She looked at the black haired boy by her side, trying to read his features. He was dying to know.  
„After you left, Ron and I searched all the safe places we could think off, but did not find anybody. He was getting more frustrated, and I more tired of the pointless search..." She trailed off and Harry nodded in understanding.  
(flashback)  
"Nothing." stated Hermione tiredly after searching the entire top floor of the old shack they were currently occupying. It did not take much time, since the building itself had only two floors and wasn't too large, but it was the third place they searched this week and Hermione was getting annoyed. Every hour she spent searching those empty houses, or the woods, she could be chasing Harry and helping to deal with the real problem. She wanted to find them, Ginny, Neville and Mrs. Weasley, but the hope of doing so was getting thinner every day. Actually, she gave up long time ago. She would never admit it to her red haired friend, but she found this pathetic.  
"I'm sorry, Ron." she lightly touched ginger's shoulder.  
Ron run his hand through his hair and nodded: "We need to search Deadly Hallows again. They might’ve just got there..."  
"Ron," started Hermione carefully: "We have already searched there. We need to find Harry."  
The taller wizard merely shook his head: "No we can't. We need to find any survivors. They might still be hiding somewhere."  
"We have searched for months. Now we need to help Harry!" argued Hermione, even though she still made sure to keep her voice soft and calm. It would be no use to anger Ron. They had enough arguments already and every one of them ended the same; Ron got offended, yelled at her and later she had to go and apologize.  
The redhead turn abruptly towards her with a frown: "Don't you want to find them?"  
And here was the question again. Ron had strange ways of guilting her into things; especially recently it seemed to be his favorite thing to do.  
She rolled her eyes instead of responding: "If Harry doesn't kill him, WE won't survive!" This time she spoke a little louder and with more force.  
"Oh, so you just want to leave to Merlin-knows-where and let the others to die?"  
His fists were clinched now.  
"What others?" defied Hermione. "We looked everywhere and nothing! We need to consider our priorities!"  
His eyes narrowed in anger, when he growled: "Perhaps, YOU need to reconsider YOUR priorities!"  
"What? Ron, this is insane!"  
He stopped dead in his back-and-forward striding around the room. Then he walked right in front of her and said in a dangerously low voice:" I'm insane? Fine! Well, maybe you SHOULD go then! If you want to find Harry so desperately, you are welcome to! But stop wasting my time!"  
Wasting his time? Hermione was furious. Enough was enough! She turned on her heals and grabbed her brown leather bag from the floor.  
"Fine." she answered quietly before walking out the doors.  
(flashback’s end)  
...and I haven't seen him since." she finished her story. It was unbelievable that this happened over two years ago. She felt very bad, when she heard of Weasley's demise. It somehow seemed like her fault, even though her brain told her otherwise. The golden ring on her hand was heavier than ever. She let out a small sigh.  
"That is not all, is it?" asked Harry after a couple seconds of silence. Hermione tried to see his face in the darkness that surrounded the chamber. "What happened then?"  
"No, it's not all." she admitted with slight smile.  
"After we split, I went back to Hogwarts. I was hoping to find anything about Voldemort whereabouts..." Pause. She still had a chance to back off and keep her secrets. She threw her best friend another look before deciding to continue:" There I ran into Draco Malfoy"  
Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise: "Did he attack you? Was V-Voldemort there?"  
"Not exactly..."  
(flashback)  
The young witch sneaked out through the door of old potion classroom and whispered "lumos" to illuminate the corridor.  
For a year after his victory Voldemort has used the Hogwarts castle as his base, that is before he moved his attention towards the rest of the England and Scotland just wasn't as useful. Yet the castle itself still looked like he was never here. There were no items or clues left after him or his servants. Nothing. How was Hermione supposed to find out where he was?  
She was almost half way at an intersection of the corridor she was in with another one leading towards the Great Hall and the main staircase, when she heard quickly nearing steps somewhere ahead of her. Quickly she dispelled the illumination charm and listened again. The steps were definitely close, but the intersection made it difficult to recognize where exactly their origin was. The bushy haired witch did the only sane thing her brain was able to put together at that moment and jumped behind the gigantic old tapestry, which hung motionlessly from a large stone arch. Couple seconds later there was a crash, which sounded like, and she assumed it was, a stray curse missing its target and clashing with one of the windows in the corridor. Hermione held her breath and got her wand ready. The steps were inevitably nearing. It wasn't just one person, as she thought at first, but it wasn't big group either. So she silently stood there in shadows, waiting for the intruders to pass.  
Suddenly, the edge of the tapestry flew open and a tall figure clothed in dark brown raincoat jumped fanatically behind it, just a foot away from Hermione. She froze. Death Eater! She tightened the grip on her wand. Luckily for her, whoever this was, they seemed way too preoccupied with the happenings on the other side of the tapestry to notice her standing right behind them. She tilted her head to the left to get a better view of the stranger's face, but the hood of his coat was pulled so forward that it was practically impossible for her to tell without the person actually turning. Her brain quickly ran through all the options she had; It was probably a Death Eater and this was her best chance to take him down, while she still had the advantage of surprise, but then again, hiding behind the curtains in Hogwarts wasn't exactly a typical Death Eater behavior…at least not since the entire castle was "ruled" by 'His Dark Lordship'.  
She drew her wand higher and was about to knock him, or her, unconscious, when the figure swiftly turned to around and Hermione found herself staring into the cold silver eyes of no other than Draco Malfoy. She pushed her wand to his throat just as young heir did the same to her. They stared at each other for good ten seconds, neither willing to make a move.  
And then there were more steps and hushed voices in the corridor. Both ex-classmates held their breaths.  
"You heard the Lord. The Malfoy prat must be eliminated." One voice whispered not far from them. It must have been couple of men by the corner of that corridor, searching for Draco. The answer was silence, broken only by decaying sounds of their steps.  
When it fell completely quiet again, Hermione decided to speak: "I think, they're gone."  
Draco nodded. Their eyes met and it took almost a full minute before they came up to the silent agreement and slowly moved their wands away from the other's throat.  
(flashback end)  
The next year and half was the strangest thing for young muggleborn. She and Malfoy, without ever discussing it, decided to stick together after the incident. It took a week of awkward silence before he actually spoke to her. She kept searching for any information on Harry or Voldemort and he kept following her. It felt really uncomfortable, at first, to have somebody sitting across the room, while she searched through the school documents or any writings that could have been left by Voldemort's followers, doing nothing, but one day, after couple of weeks, he started to help her organize and fill in the blanks about Voldemort's recent whereabouts. They still did not talk much, but they were becoming a great team.  
Harry stopped Hermione with a deep sigh: "Mione, you know, you shouldn't have done that." Hermione knew exactly what he meant.  
"Malfoy was a Death Eater; his father and mother were Death Eater. What if it was just a disguise? It seems suspicious, how you found him. He might have been sending all information to Voldemort and-"  
"We got married" interrupted Hermione Harry's rant in a whisper.  
As time went on the Gryffindor found herself getting closer and closer to the attractive blond boy, especially after he dropped the all-pure act. To be honest, there was always strange tension between them, they just never got close enough to explore it. But when they both fund themselves of Voldemort’s list of undesirables, hiding and barely surviving, they finally got a chance to talk. Hermione soon found out that Draco was not only a brilliant nerd, but he was also able to make even the darkest moment funny with his cynical remarks or snobbish behavior. It was almost like a perfect love story; they met, were forced to cooperate, fell in love and one day out of passion got married…  
The black haired boy's mouth opened and closed few times without a word escaping. A pregnant pause followed, neither of them brave enough to face the other one. Hermione was sure Harry would hate her forever because of Ron and all, until he spoke softly with his eyes still pinned to floor: "I'm sorry"  
"Why?"  
Harry chuckled to himself and then finally raised his head to look at her: "My best friend got married and I missed it."  
Another short pause.  
Hermione bounced onto her best friend's already open arm. This might have been the happiest she's been in a long time. It was an indescribable feeling to have Harry back. It could have been yesterday they studied for their finals, they will never be able to take, or played chess late into the night on top of the Astronomy tower. The two of them used to sneak out of their dorm and go to the kitchens, while everyone else slept. There they ate the most obnoxious muggle and wizarding sweets, listened to music, and occasionally even danced and drank. Hermione now was sure she would take a bullet for this spooky, messy haired, introverted man in front of her.  
Hermione woke up early next morning feeling completely rejuvenated, which was surprising since she and Harry spent the entire night talking about everything and anything in the world. She stretched her arms and turned her head slightly to the right just to find the younger wizard to be still deep in his private dreamland. She smiled to herself, got up from her sleeping bag and tiptoed to their bags. After checking her watch, she decided that it was still way too early for Harry and that he won't be up for at least another hour, so she might as well grab a book from her bag and enjoy some quality reading time. Maybe she could even check Hogwart's History for some information on archiving important documents. She kneeled next to the pile of the bags they brought yesterday and dipped her hand into her red infinity handbag. She was very proud of herself for creating that one. It took a quite a spell work to get the dimension to weight parameters right, so the bag isn't too heavy when stuffed or doesn't collide on itself when empty. Only problem she still needed to fix was the inability to use accio while searching through the indefinite space of the bag.  
Hermione spent a good while blindly searching around with her fingers until she found the book she needed. When she pulled it out and closed her bag back up, she was about to head back to her sleeping spot, but a small object in Harry's half closed back caught her eye. It was her time-turner, but why was it in Harry's bag? She was sure she's always kept it in a safe pocket of her bag. After a second thought, the bushy witch decided not to get ahead of herself; it was probably a different time-turner and Harry would ask if he wanted to use hers. So she returned to sitting on her sleeping bag, opened the Hogwart's History and started to flip through the pages.  
When ten minutes passed and she couldn't concentrate on anything outside of the small golden hourglass in her best friend's backpack, she closed the book and walked back to the place of interest. She unzipped the bag and as she was to reach after the time-turner, she stopped. What was she doing? This was Harry Potter. The good guy, the savior. She should trust him and not go around violating his privacy. She tried to pull her hand away, but the curiosity got the better of her and she grabbed the small pedant.  
Just one single look at assured her it was in deed hers. It even had the name of their old transfiguration professor engraved on its bottom side. She checked on still sleeping form of The Boy Who Live and turned back to her hand. What would Harry want with it that he couldn't just ask her? She pondered purposely ignoring the hurtful fact that her best friend stole from her. Her free hand reached into the bag for the small leather notebook lying where the time-turner was just a seconds ago. She remembered Harry writing names of all dead people in the war, suspected and proved. It was more used now, actually almost the whole book was full and it wasn't just a list anymore. As Hermione went through all the pages of different schemes, notes, names, some crossed out and some circled, an old yellowing page fell out onto her lap. She scanned it and immediately knew what Harry planned with her time-turner.  
At the top there were couple book titles such as Time-Traveled by Sarvirus Polligan and How far to the Past by Miranda Lowen. Right underneath that was a list of some spell Hermione couldn't read because they were all crossed out except for one, Lamis Tempus. From there simple arrow directed her to couple notes on the bottom reading:  
Aug 15, 1943- TMR- 5th  
Jan 3, Chamber of Secrets opens  
Jan 28, Myrtle  
Sum 44, DarkMark, DE  
After this there was one more word, friend, circled and underlined many times.  
Harry Potter was after that girl, the so called Voldemort's best friend! But he wasn't planning on finding her now, but in the past! He wanted to travel 50 years into the past and..  
Hermione did not have time to finish her thoughts, because a voice disrupted the silence: "Hermione, what are you doing?"  
She dived so deep in his notebook she didn't noticed he got up and was now standing just a couple yards away. She jumped to her feet like a child caught sneaking into the forbidden cookie jar.  
"What am I doing? How about yourself?" she replied little panicked. Harry has already noticed the things in her hand.  
"What is this?" she demanded and held both book and the time-turned in front of her.  
"Hermione, calm down." said Harry and took a careful step towards his friend, but Hermione was way too enraged and took a swift step backwards.  
"No! Are you crazy?! What the hell?" yelled Hermione, still keeping a distance between them.  
"Hermione, please, first calm down and then we can talk about it." Tried Harry  
Hermione only huffed back: "Talk about what? About your stupid plan to go back in fucking time to what? To chase somebody some moron mentioned in his diary? " said Hermione desperately thinking that this must be just her luck. She finnaly got her best friend back two weeks ago and now he wanted to literally commit a suicide.  
Harry was getting frustrated with his constantly backing-up friend: "This is our big chance Hermione! I have to go and bring her here!"  
But Hermione wasn't about to give up: "What?! That's a fucking suicide! He will find you and kill you! And you don't even know how to get back!" blamed angrily Hermione, her high-pitched voice echoing through the chamber.  
Harry stopped for a second but then said in a calm voice: "I have to try" He looked at Hermione for a support, but she only clutched things harder in her hands and shook her head.  
"I won't let you."  
A seconds passed, when Harry suddenly charged towards Hermione full speed, his hand aiming for the time-turner. They were only about two yards apart, so with his Quiddich skills as a Seeker is was no problem to get a hold of the golden chain on the first try. They struggled, the chain snapped and it was only a very unfortunate result that the falling spinning golden hourglass landed right underneath Harry's foot. The fragile glass shattered. They both followed the noise with their eyes. Harry bent down to pick up the broken pieces, when Hermione spoke: "H-Harry?"  
Her voice sounded scared, so he looked up. The young witch's eyes were widened with fear as she watched her disappearing hands.  
"Hermione?" Harry reached out to grab her arm, but his hand went through her body like she was nothing more than a ghost.  
"Help me" was the last thing Hermione whispered, before vanishing with Harry's notebook and the broken chain into the thin air.  
So, what did you think?


	3. Meeting Malfoy

Menteur: Chapter 2: Meeting Malfoy

August 28, 1943

Her vision was blurry and her head spun violently causing a nauseating feeling at the pit of her stomach to push her breakfast out of her belly towards the esophagus. She closed her eyes. 1,2,3..she counted to ten before trying to open them back up. She could see her own hands and the water almost clearly now…Wait! Water? She looked around, still trying to adjust her sight to the blurriness. It was very dark, so she wasn't able to see very clearly anyway, but what she knew for a fact was that the floor was in deed covered in thin layer of still water. She could feel it soaking through the material of her tennis shoes making her toes uncomfortably cold.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered faintly. She waited couple seconds, but there was no answer. Everything was still and strangely quiet. She pocketed the broken chain and put Harry's notebook in her Infinity bag. Then she decided her sight was adjusted enough and slowly moved forward. She had no idea where she was or where she was going, but it would be too dangerous to simply cast lumos and look. That stupid enchantment Harry put on her time-turner must have transported her somewhere and with her luck it's probably Malfoy Manor, or Voldemort's current base! Stupid Harry and his crazy ideas!

She stumbled little more before her hands found something to hold onto in the darkness. She carefully swiped the palms of her hands over its sleek, cold surface. It was strange; almost like something was carved into the wall with a stunning detail. She continued searching the unknown pattern, moving up and down small bumps and wrinkled lines. The carvings were simple, long strips mostly flowing straight but curled on the narrowing end, almost like snakes'tails. She moved one step to the right to find where those carvings lead, until she eventually found a point of their seeming convergence. There all of them came together and forward, creating almost a statue like object. Longer she examined the place, more it reminded her of a nose. Actually, she was sure it was a nose and there was only one statue, which nose was proportional to the one she found- Salazar Slytherin. That meant she still was in the Chamber of Secrets, but what was all that water doing there? And where was Harry?

Hermione reached for the crack on Salazar's cheek, but when her hands finally reached the place where she remembered it was, there was no sign of it, just smooth marble. She checked the part of his head which was knocked off during the battle of Hogwarts. There it was, untouched, firmly attached to the rest of his forehead…Shit!  
Screw all the precautions, thought Hermione and snapped her fingers for her wand to land in her hand.  
"Lumos"  
The Chamber of Secrets in front of her looked even more unwelcoming than before. Everything seemed cleaner and shinier. There were no cracks on the floor, no collapsed ceiling. The snake statues were standing to the perfection of their creator and the heavy metal vault door sealed shut. The young witch turned back to Slytherin's head. There was something else, outside of it being repaired, odd about it…

When the idea finally hit her she spun on her heals and sprinted as fast as she could towards the first possible exit. The last time she looked at the statue, the mouth of Hogwarts builder, was open. It was so since Basilisk left his nesting place through it to attack Harry in their second year and because it was impossible to close the secret door without its monster returning, it simply stayed open since then… and now it was closed! Hermione quickly crawled into the closest sewer.

Stupid, stupid Harry! The Chamber of Secrets, the water on the floor, the time-turner accident! It all was making more and more sense! She traveled through the time, but to when? It could have been anywhere! How is she going to get back? There were thousands questions running through her head at once and she was getting the feeling that the answers to them won't be in her favor.

She did not stop crawling until she reached the large sewer lit placed in an opening above her. She pushed it aside with all her might, squeezed herself out of the sewer and carefully kicked the metal lit back on with her foot. It was quite comical, Hermione though, that all the chamber's entrances seem to end in a washroom. At least this time it wasn't a lady's room, otherwise she might have suspected Salazar of some ulterior motives for building it. The curly haired witch played with the funny idea for little bit longer before she decided that the best thing to do, would be to leave Hogwarts as soon as possible. She was transferred in time, she knew that much, but the question was how far. Since the Basilisk was most likely still alive in the dungeons, it was definitely before their second year a.k.a. at least 10 years back…Hermione rubbed the sweat off of her forehead. This was going to be problematic. First she must leave the castle to ensure that she won't be seen by anyone from her time, and that way, manage to alter the future. Then maybe she could travel to the Ministry and ask for help at the Department of Magical Accidents. They might be able to help her out…

It was middle of the night, so Hermione didn't have to worry about any students crossing her path and has made it out onto the grounds in a record time. At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, she turned to look back at the castle and noticed somebody going towards the tall trees right behind the lake. Normally, she would not pay any attention to some students, strolling through the school in the middle of the night to meet their lovers or friends, but this one had a full head of platinum hair- the Malfoy trademark. His school robes flew behind him, as he rushed across the grounds. It couldn't be Draco, could it? Hermione's curiosity took over and she sneaked closer to where he was heading, finding an adequate hiding spot behind some ivy bushes. As he got closer, Hermione was sure that this was in deed one of the Malfoys. It was almost painful how much this one looked like Draco; picture-perfect pale skin, shinning blue eyes, high cheekbones with strong jawline and long, slightly pointy nose, this all framed by nearly-white hair. Hermione frowned, when she noticed how upset he looked. His eyebrows were furrowed together creating a petite wrinkle just above the bridge of his nose, eyes fixed on the ground, and hands clutched into fists. Hermione couldn't help but wonder what was going on and maybe it was her inquisitive nature, or maybe it was the thought of Draco, what made her follow him deeper to the woods.

It did not take more than a minute of sneaking behind this guy before he stopped. About 50 yards farther into the forest, in the small clearing, were standing in an almost geometrical circle five other male figures, all wrapped in their school cloaks, waiting in a complete silence. The blond wizard quickly joined the others. Couple whispered sentences were exchanged between them, when suddenly there was a puff of grey shimmery smoke and a person stepped out of it. The whispers died down as soon as the last person's foot touched the ground and everybody made a timid step back.

"How nice of you to finally join us, Malfoy" said the newcomer in a smooth voice. From her position Hermione couldn't see his face, but the tone of his voice said it all.  
Malfoy, who had his back to him and therefore didn't see him appearing in the clearing, shuttered. He followed the example of other and bowed down, bowing his blond head low enough to imply a respectful nod.

"I'm sorry." he coughed out without ever looking to his lord's eyes.

Voldemort? Thought Hermione, taking a closer look at the tall black haired man's back. He turned around in her direction and Hermione froze on the spot. This couldn't be HIM! The person in front of her was merely a boy no more than 16 years of age. True, he was quite tall, way taller than her, with angular features which gave him eminent aura of maturity and independence. One couldn't find a one flaw on his look; his thick black hair was brushed out of his face in a very classical stylet of 50s gentleman, making a contrast to his pale ashy skin. Although the most charming part were his eyes. Two black marbles were shining with dominance and cold logic, and yet graceful was the only word Hermione could find to describe them.

"We will discuss that later" said young Voldemort apathetically. Then he sharply turned to the rest of figures: "Gentlemen, I hope you have everything I asked for"  
All boys nodded in union and pulled various object out of their capes and pockets. All of them got handed to the Voldemort and he carefully checked every one of them before putting them in his own cloak.

After all goods were transferred, the group took its original circular shape with dark wizard in its middle.

“If we keep this up, my knights, the school will be ours in no time.” Said young Voldemort with sly smile, which was followed by round of deep chuckles of agreement.  
“I have personally talked to Professor Slughorn about some additional allowances for our house regarding late night curfew and Hogsmeade weekends.” Hushed cheers and excited chatter exploded with in the group.

One more time he looked his minions over before setting his gaze on young Malfoy : "Now, what shall we do with you, my friend."

"I'm sorry, but Professor Lawry's appointment took longer than expected. " answered Malfoy, kneeling down.

Young Voldemort crossed his arms behind his back and spoke: "Are you saying that you are incapable to handle simple time-management task?" He paused, even though he did not expect an answer.

"Involvement with The Knights of Valprus and partaking in our meetings is a privilege. Do you still remember what your priorities are, Malfoy?"  
Malfoy nodded silently with his head down.

"Really? I am starting to have my doubts. This is the third time and it almost seem like it is not worth it. Are you worthy to be one of us?" Voldemort raised his eyebrows as to mock the man in front of him.

“Of course!” defended himself the blond.

Riddle pondered on it for a second, then spoke slowly, his face still expressionless:"Maybe, and maybe not." The excruciating silence fell upon the group when Tom suddenly whispered: “Prove it”

He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Malfoy's chest. With one swift swing, Malfoy fell onto the ground shaking violently as the waves of pain washed over him. Lurking in the shadows, Hermione bit her lip. Fine stream of blood rolled down blonde's chin and his arms immediately went to his chest, where another bloodstain started to appear from underneath his green sweater. The young witch knew she shouldn't intervene, but she couldn't let him suffer. It was too much.

She snapped her fingers for her wand. When it appeared in her hand she touched its tip to her throat and whispered "AliquaAnimusFelix". This was a quite simple spell she learned from Lee Jordan. Only thing it did, it imitated a noise a particular animal makes before it fights a projected it about 20x louder in a high pitched frequencies out of the mouth of the caster. Lee used it constantly at the Quiddich matches to announce the winner and she remembered covering her ears from skull-puncturing, highly annoying sound. It should distract them though, or maybe even alert somebody in the castle.

Hermione, with her wand still pressed to her neck, screamed on the top of her lungs. The sound which escaped her lips was indeed awful. Instead of the Phoenix's war cry, that she intended, it sounded more like gust of air searing through a car trapped in whale's breathing apparatus. But it got the job done beautifully. Voldemort interrupted his torture and looked cautiously around.

"My Lord, that's not a good sign! We need to go before somebody finds us!" panicked the short boy with long dark brown hair.

Voldemort thought about it for a second and then smiled victoriously as an idea crossed his mind. "Alright, BUT-" With a hand gesture he stopped two students who tried in a hurry to help bleeding and almost unconscious Malfoy up.

"Leave him here" he ordered. "He wanted to prove his worth, didn't he?"

One of the boys protested but was shut down with one single look from his master. After that they all cleared out.

Hermione didn't even wait for the Voldemort's little group to be far before jumping to injured Malfoy. One look and she could tell it was actually worse than she expected. There were couple minor cuts around his arms and face, which could be sealed with basic wound-sealing potion, but the large gash, spreading from his collarbone to his stomach, was making her nervous. The sticky blood was getting on her hands, making it difficult to undo buttons of his shirt.

The blond wizard let out a painful sigh, when she finally reached the wound. His eyes were still shut, but he was obviously still conscious enough to feel the pain.

"Woah, don't get up. You will make it worse." whispered Hermione, and pushed down on his shoulder to keep him still when he was about to get up. She did what she could; she patched up his wounds with a best healing charm she could think of and gave him blood replenishing potion from her bag. He refused it at first, but all his strength eventually ran out and he had no other choice than let himself be fed a whole dose of foul-tasting liquid.

"W-who *cough* who are you?" Hermione turned to answer and found him staring at her through half closed eyes. He tried to grab her arm, but missed in his delirious state by almost 10 inches. He probably can even see me form all that blood loss, realized Hermione relieved.

"A friend" she decided on the most appropriate answer to calm Malfoy's suspicions.

He snickered: "Well, nice to meet you, A Friend. My name is Abraxas Malfoeey…" joked blond before slipping into the sweet world of unconsciousness, leaving the speechless witch having to levitate him into the Hospital Wing.

To be continued...


	4. A Chat With a Hat

Menteur: Chapter 3: A Chat with the Hat

August 28, 1943

"May I speak with you in private, miss?" came a question from somewhere behind her. She slowly turned after the familiar voice.

There, just a couple of feet from her, stood Albus Dumbledore himself. For a second she wasn't even sure it was really him. This man's beard was noticeably shorter, than what she was used to from her own time…that is, before he was killed by Snape. His hair was the most unnatural shade of red that even Weasleys could not compare with only streaks and lonely locks of grey. She could finally understand just how much toll it took on him to keep peace within the school throughout the reigns of two incredibly powerful dark wizards. No one she knew would call this Dumbledore an old man. He stood tall, with his eyes that saw the infinity of the world, his magic aura radiating off of him with such strength, Hermione could feel it puncturing her body like it was nothing more than paper thin and leaving his mark on her soul. It was like meeting a legend, a hero, in their primetime.

She took a last look at elder medi-witch cautiously tending to young Abraxas Malfoy and nodded without saying a single word. Dumbledore gave her curd nod, his eyebrows furrowed in suspicion and said: "Could you wait for me in my office near the Transfiguration classroom, while I talk to Mrs. Grey, please. It's just down this corridor, fifth door on the left." He outstretched his arm in the general direction of his office to clarify, which Hermione naturally already knew, but did not dare to say anything, what could attract even more attention. She silently turned and walked out of the Hospital Wing, heading towards said office.

For every material step she took, her mind went at least a mile. She was caught, and on top of that by Dumbledore, the greatest and all-knowing wizard alive. Only thing she wanted to do was to ensure that Malfoy got the medical attention he so desperately needed and then leave before the medi-witch, or anyone else, sees her. But now, even if she tried to run away and hide, she wouldn't probably make it too far before Dumbledore found her again and made her spill all of secrets. She sighed.

When she finally reached the door, she stopped and breathed deeply, pulled the door open and disappeared into the classroom. Inside it looked just like it did when she was in school minus some of the exemplars, which were donated to Hogwarts during the later years; usually courtesy of Dumbledore's ministry friends after he became the headmaster. Young witch followed the row of desks to the other side of spacy room, where the heavy wooden door let to the current transfiguration teacher's cabinet. Once inside, Hermione strolled nervously towards closest empty chair by the massive mahogany table and sat down. This room did change a lot. It went from McGonagall's tidy, quiet and slightly bureaucratic work place into a chaotic, surprisingly noisy half research-half storage space. Every single object in there was clicking, levitating around in the circles or transfiguring from one thing to another, just to turn right back into its original form. Instruments that didn't do any of before mentioned activities at least occasionally glowed different color. It was simply chaos, but Hermione was too busy considering her options to be offended or distressed by any of this.

She found herself doubting her decision to help Malfoy. What was wrong with her? This was the same man, who in couple years will raise one of the most selfish, cruel excuses for a human being otherwise known as Lucius Malfoy. Not even counting, that he ALREADY was a part of the Knights of Walpurgis, which was pretty much like being the original Death Eater. She was stupid for interfering with anything here and it shouldn't surprise her that Dumbledore found out. If he was at least a little bit like the headmaster from her own time, he probably knew about every single whisper going around the school. Could this change the timeline? What if she was going to say something what could change the future? No one, not even Dumbledore, was powerful enough to shift or bend time to their will and prosper. If her calculations were correct, and Voldemort was still in his teens, she must have landed somewhere in early 40's, which also means that Albus Dumbledore have to yet dealt with his childhood nemesis, Gellert Grindelwald, and get the Elder Wand in his possession. Even though strong wizard, he had still just fraction of his future knowledge…

Hermione paused for a second and thought. Maybe she still could run! Dumbledore didn't set the improved protecting wards until after Tom Riddle's left the school. She could still sneak by the path to Hogsmeade, which, based on chapter 26 of Hogwarts: A History, was still left unguarded except of few basic charms and she could definitely handle those.  
Hermione hopped out of comfy chair and rushed towards the exit so she could make it out before Albus returns from his chat with the healer.

"Ehm-hmm" a rusty sounding noise came from her left before she had time to walk out of the door, but when she turned to look, there was nobody there. She took two steps closer to the renaissance-fashioned dresser, where the sound was coming from. It was a very old and worn down looking piece of furniture with one set of large double doors and couple of drawers at the bottom. Hermione carefully opened the doors, expecting an animal or maybe a feral goblin to jump out and run for their lives, but only thing she found in there was the Sorting Hat. The old leathery thing sat leisurely on the top shelf making a minimal movement, but its eye-like dents seemed to follow her every movement. Hermione reached up, grabbed the hat and sat it on her head full of unruly curls.

'Ah, Mrs. Malfoy, aren't you little too old to be in school? Plus, if I remember correctly I have already sorted you once.' Said the hat happily.

'How do you know my name? and..and..'

She didn't have to say it, because the hat laughed loudly before finishing for her: 'And that you are married to a Malfoy?'

Hermione nodded.

'I, my dear,' started the hat in a sympathetic tone: 'see anything and everything what is in your mind- all the things that happened in your life time '

'Do you know how to get me back then? Please!' demanded young witch.

The Sorting Hat sighed: 'I'm afraid I do not, Mrs. Malfoy.'

'Well, I guess it was worth a try' thought Hermione: 'Could you at least point me out to the best way out of here? As you might know, I'm not familiar with this year's prefect rounds and am pretty sure the Whomping Willow Passage is not there yet, am I right?'

'Correct' said the hat: 'The passage behind Gunhilda Gorsemoor is probably your safest bet. Not many students know about it and it will lead you straight to the open Floo Network at the Hog's Head. From there it will be only a matter of seconds to reach the Ministry. '

'Thanks.' Said Hermione and was about to take the Sorting Hat off, when it suddenly blurred out: 'THAT IS, if you really want to leave!'

'What do you mean?' she asked and sat him (or it) back on her head. Sorting Hat made a breathe-out noise and explained: 'If you go to the Ministry, you might never get the opportunity to come back…'

After correctly translating Hermione's silence as a puzzlement, the Hat continued: 'Maybe it could be useful to stay a little while.'

'That's completely unacceptable! What if I change the future? Bad things happen to wizards who meddle with time.' Hermione recited the same phrase Dumbledore told her and Harry at the end of their third year.

'But he lost in the end, didn't he?' the Hat pointed out as he was reading her mind, pointing at Dumbledore's demise and the lost war, but Hermione wouldn't have any of it.  
'So, you expect me to charge into Voldemort's dorm room and murder him in his sleep? That spells Azkaban!'

'I have to admit, I do not feel pity, nor sympathy, for Mr. Riddle as Albus does.' The Hat sounded sad, maybe even remorseful, for saying this, yet it choosed to continue: 'He believes that everybody deserves redemption, no matter of their previous acts…But I, I have seen HIS mind and all the things in it. He must be stopped, Hermione.'

Hermione listened silently to the Sorting Hat, slipping more and more into her own thoughts. The Hat was absolutely correct about one thing; the Dark Lord must be stopped, but Hermione was positive, it was not in her powers to fight the strongest wizard alive, as many called him in her days, and succeed. She was nobody, a muggleborn with brain and slight talent for magic control. She could waste her life practicing spell and curses and never reach Voldemort's level. How could she ever face him by herself without risking the revelation of her time-travelling, or worse, accidentally giving him any vital information on his future? It would be suicidal mission at best.

'You are forgetting, that now you have a huge advantage, Mrs. Malfoy.' The Hat interrupted her, precisely knowing, what she was thinking: 'Mr. Potter sacrificed so much to get where you are now; to have the same advantage. Spell that transport one more than fifty years in time are not just lying around'

Hermione frowned at this, not because the information itself annoyed her, but because it was true. She never really thought about how much Harry must have gone through just to get it all set up and then find her. Most of their friends and families were killed at the Battle of Hogwarts, and those who were unlucky enough to survive, were later tracked down by Death Eaters and torn to pieces… until it was just her and Harry left. It never stopped to amaze her, how tirelessly her best friend kept fighting and never gave up hope. Suddenly, the bushy haired witch felt terrible for not supporting him more. If she just wasn't such a rule-follow prude, they could have been here together and have at least some chance, but because she had to be such a stuck-up, is she here now alone with only her wand, Harry's notebook, the empty infinity bag and broken time-turner chain.  
Hermione sighed: 'What if I change my future for the worse?'

'Is there really that much to lose?' the Hat asked a question they both already knew answer to.

The silence between them was short, but nearly suffocating everything it reached.

'You are very easily silenced, for a brightest witch of your age' noted the Sorting Hat, mocking the young witch in attempt to lighten the mood. It must have been the absurdity of the comment and realness of the situation, what made Hermione burst out in a desperate laughter. She used to be so proud of that title; getting good grades symbolized her world and now it meant nothing at all. She used to be so naïve…

"I'm glad you are getting acquainted, miss." Albus' voice surfaced from the door. The future headmaster was attentively watching her, his facial features frozen into a stern look.  
Hermione quickly pulled the Hat off, leaving her hair even more disheveled that it was before, and sat the leather accessory on Dumbledore's table. Then she turned to fully face him. She had no idea how long was he there and was very appreciative of the Hat's abilities to talk mind-to-mind.

"I apologize for my unwelcoming manners, but please understand my restraint, when some unknown witch shows up in our school with an injured student and without ever setting off warding security system." Dumbledore explained as he sat behind his table, hand-gesturing her to do the same.

When they both were seated, Dumbledore pushed his glasses higher up on his nose and started: "What happened to Mr. Malfoy? And perhaps you should start with telling me your name."  
"I-" Hermione glanced at the Sorting Hat at the edge of the table. This was the time to decide what to do. She could tell the truth about her time-turner accident and probably be sent to the Ministry immediately, or she could lie and try to stop Riddle before he gains his full powers and kills all the muggles and wizards in his way to the world domination and immortality. It took only one memory of her friends falling down during the battle like leaves in autumn, and it was decided.

"My name is Serena, sir, Serena Durand" Hermione tried her best to copy Fleur's cheesy French accent. She hated lying to the man, who is one day going to save her, Harry's and Ron's lives, but she was worried that Dumbledore's fatherly instincts towards Tom Riddle clouded his mind and he would not be willing to give up. After all, it wouldn't be the first time the wise wizard closed his eyes over Voldemort's crimes.

"I don't know, what 'appened to zat boy. You see, I was on my way to ze Hogwarts, when I found 'im in ze woods laying uncouzius." lied Hermione.

"Then you must have had reason to come here."

As soon as he said it, a few possible lies flew through Hermione's brain, but only one of them struck her as just enough brilliant and also quite cunning.

"Grindelwald killed zem. 'E killed my family. I 'ad nowhere else to go. I 'ad to leave! You see, my fatzer was born in Scotland and 'e used to tell me stories of ze Hogwarts and 'ow safe it was, so I came here." Hermione almost wanted to congratulate herself for pulling this off. It was actually very wicked for her to use Dumbledore's strange affection towards his old friend just to get him feel compassion for her story and she felt bad as soon as the words left her mouth. But concealing of her identity was the priority right now.

Albus' face considerably saddened upon hearing the lie Hermione was so professionally feeding him, but the tiny spark of uncertainty never left his eyes. She's seen this look before and knew exactly what to do. Just a second after she put her Occlumency wards up, she could feel his presence in her head, searching around and trying to push through the block she has made to protect any sensitive memories. He gave up quicker that she expected; after all he was Albus Dumbledore, the master of Legilimency, and if he really wanted to, could have pushed through her wards without a drop of sweat. Yet, for some reason, he decided not to and his magic slowly floated away.

"Alright, then. We will have to talk to Headmaster Dippet first, but I'm sure there won't be any problems. Hogwarts is always open to the refugees." Said Dumbledore lightly.

It took almost two hours to talk with headmaster Dippet and put all of her new school-file information together, especially since she had to make everything up as she went, but after all of that was done, the old headmaster summoned the Sorting Hat and Hermione was sorted for the second time in her life, into her new house- Slytherin. Obviously, the Hat found it very important for her 'quest' and despite all Hermione's begging, it announced the snake house's name for the headmaster and Albus to hear. The young witch was upset at first, because she didn't view it as the best idea to put a muggleborn into a pit of vicious purebloods, but the Hat was persuaded that it would be useful, and Hermione forgot about it as soon as she got her new schedule. All the 7th years, which included her since she was at least 3 years older than the oldest student, had to take three required subjects- Potions, Transfiguration, and Charms- and four electives for which she picked Alchemy, Ancient Runes, Magical Theory and the Dueling, she hoped will be something like DADA because to her surprise in 1940s they didn't offer this class. One thing, she didn't lose during the war was her love of studying. She already couldn't wait to go to the library and checkout all the books, which didn't make it into the 90s. With her schedule, Dipped also gave her list of all the items she was required to buy and permission to go Hogsmeade the upcoming weekend.

The only problem Hermione encountered was right after the door of principal's office closed behind her and she realized, they did not give the password to the Slytherin dorms. It was too late to search the school for somebody to tell her and she didn't feel like sleeping in the dungeons with all the sneaky swindlers anyway, so she decided to camp out in the Room of Requirement at least for a week or two. When she got there, with use of couple basic transfiguration spells, she managed to create a decent living space, including a queen-size bed, one table, couple shelves, dresser, and a small cozy love seat. To show her continuing defiance, she made sure that all the furniture was either wooden or deep red, the sign of Gryffindor. Later she decided to take some extra security measures such as putting a big load of charms around the room and adjusting her appearance a little. She used a dye-spell to turn her hair black and then straightened it a little. She wasn't a big fan of her new dark-slytherinish look, but last thing she needed was some future Death Eater to remember a bushy haired witch appearing out of a thin air during their stay at Hogwarts. She was already high enough on the Voldy's Hit List, as Fred and George used to call the Order during the war.

She sighed. 'Welcome back home, Hermione…' she thought before heading to the inviting warmth of her new bed.

To be continued...


	5. Serena- part 1

Menteur: Chapter 4: Serena- part 1

September 30, 1943 (notice ca. one month has passed since HG's arrival-dates will be important later)

Tom put the book in his hand neatly back to its place on one of bookshelves, even though the only thing he wanted to do, was to throw it across the room and burn it. He wanted to make it suffer for not giving him the information he searched. It must have been at least 50th book he checked today, but still he seemed to be unable to find anything on horcruxes- not a single mention of it. To say that he was annoyed would be an understatement of the year. He spent whole last semester and a great part of the summer making Horace Slughorn warm up to him enough to give him the permission for entering the 'limited access' part of the Hogwart's library. And now, there was nothing! He took one more quick look around the place, checking all the spots and places he might have missed before walking to the young woman at the main desk.

"Hello, Miss Irma. Is that a new hat? It looks very lovely on you!" he said charmingly his well-prepared greeting. He knew for sure the atypical bonnet on dark haired lady was new. Its red material showed every sign of being new and unworn, but that wasn't important. For Tom it only served as a cleaver mediator between himself and things he wanted to know.

The young librarian only giggled and waved her hand at his comment like it meant nothing more than a formality, but couldn't help not to sassily straighten her new headgear. Then she smiled sweetly: "What can I do for you, Tom?"

Tom casually leaned on the counter: "I was looking for some specific books for my research, but they seem to be missing."

"Oh, I'm sure some student took them and will return them in no time. Just give it a day or two." Answered the woman lightly.

Tom suppressed a scowl, which was threatening to show his displeasure towards older woman's stupidity and inability to supply him with some satisfactory explanation to the lack of certain literature in one of the biggest libraries in the whole magical world.

"It's little more difficult, you see." He said seriously, leaning even closer to her, looking straight into her eyes. The librarian tried to mimic the stern look in student's face, but it was obvious his proximity made her nervous and she eventually avoided his eyes, subconsciously allowing young Voldemort to take the dominant position. He smiled.

"They should be in the Restricted Section and as far as I know no books can be checked out of that section…yet they are gone." Irma nervously played with a quill in her hand as he explained.

Tom gave her a second to take an initiative, but when she did not even open her mouth, he spoke again: "Maybe, you could tell me who took them, so I can ask that person to lend them to me for a quick read?"

Prince cleared her throat: "W-well…the Head Girl and Boy are the only other students with a full access to the Restricted Section…Maybe you could check with them?"

Upon hearing this, Tom silently cursed every higher power he could think off, because He was sure this was the destiny laughing in his face. Norris Lukegrass, the pathetic excuse for a wizard and a current head boy, was not probably even aware of this books' existence, and if the only other possibility was the head girl, Minarva Mcgonagall, clever, very well read and nosy senior student, it was highly probable that the books were, indeed, in her possession. If this were to be true, Tom knew, it would be very hard to acquire those books without making Miss Goody-pants suspicious and immediately running to Dumbledore. ..

He promptly checked his watch just to find out it was time to head to the Magical Theory class and after curt nod to Irma, Tom exited the library. When he finally made it to the spacious room on the 5th floor, which until this year used to be storage, but was renovated by Terrace London, the teacher himself, into a possibly best classroom in the whole school, the majority of the students were already sitting at their circle-arranged desks, and it didn't take more than a minute before the teacher entered also. This middle aged man dressed in long leather over coat, which looked like it had its better days long behind, rushed towards his table at the far back of the room, hands full of different scrolls, books, wands and other common magical objects. Uneducated wizard or witch could meet this confused looking man on the street and think nothing more of him that a crazed hobo or escaped lunatic, but everyone with at least little knowledge of recent discoveries would recognize the most productive theoretic of both dark and light magic in England. Just within the last two months Tom has read about five new spells Terrace came up with, and that was really something. Normally, it took months, if not years, for one to perfect a new spell, but this man was putting them out like they were some simple potions. Tom had to admit, he was excited to learn from him.

"Now, students, if you calm yourself, I would like to return your essays." Mr. London said, not even looking at his pupils, still going through hills of parchments on his table. Tom slit into his usual spot next to Malfoy and some Rawenclaw girl with way too obnoxious glasses.

"Also…ah, here they are!" the professor trailed off and pulled out a paper box of, what Tom assumed, were their corrected and graded essays. Mr. London breathed out happily and gazed at the students for the first time, his emerald green eyes sparkling with excitement. Then he continued: "As always, these essays helped me determine which one of you is the best fit to be my teaching assistant this semester."

Tom could barely suppress a smug smile. He was going to be the TA; the position was his since he first signed up for this class a year ago. Every semester he got the highest marks, so far successfully managed every task his teacher gave him and most importantly, was the top student in the entire school. His only real competition was Abraxas Malfoy, who was incredibly intelligent and had naturally stronger magic than most, but luckily for Tom, the rich boy lacked the internal drive and thirst for power. And even though young Voldemort was sure he could eliminate Malfoy, if it was needed, having him on his side made things quite easier. No matter of his wealth, power or heritage, Abraxas would never go against his master.

"I won't torment you with suspense any longer…"laughed Terrace at his own joke, while most of the students just rolled their eyes at the banality. They all knew that they had no chance against Tom and this 'suspence' game was merely waiting for the professor to state what everyone had already known. Mr. London pulled out one of the parchments and read the name on it aloud.

"Miss Serena Durand!"

As soon as it was spoken, one could hear a pin drop. Couple students whispered something to their deskmates and others' eyes searched the classroom for the new TA. A girl in Slytherin uniform just a couple seats away from Tom raised her hand. Except for her thick puffy dark hair tied in huge knot on the top of her head, she was very plain looking. Yet it bothered him, that he had never noticed her. Hogwarts was his school since he first set a foot on its grounds and he always knew everything and everybody in it, especially when it concerned his own house. This was unacceptable! He tossed a quick questioning look at Abraxas, but young heir only shrugged his shoulders and continued to watch the new girl.

When the professor came to congratulate and shake her hand, she glanced nervously around the room until her eyes found Tom's. He put on a polite smile, but it seemed to cause girl's indifference to be exchanged for a slight frown. Then she turned back to the professor, who was explaining her all the duties and privileges of being TA, while Tom, just like all the other students, kept watching her attentively.

The witch spoke with mild French accent, from which he assumed she must be some sort of exchange student- a new comer, obviously very smart as she managed to catch genius professor's attention. He didn't mind, because he liked challenge. What bothered him though was, that he had not seen her anywhere, not even the Slytherin dorms or the Great Hall untill now. It was like she appeared out of nowhere…

He spent unhealthy part of the lesson monitoring her movements, little habits and anything she said, before his mind drifted back to more pressing matters such as Horcrux research and the way to check whether Minerva does or does not have those books from the library. The sooner he gets hold of them, sooner he can make one, and then…the bell rang and it was time for the Dueling class- Tom's favorite subject and a perfect chance to talk to the Head Girl.


	6. Serena- part 2

Menteur: Chapter 4: Serena -Part 2

September 30, 1943

The classroom for practical magic was more of an aula rather than a normal sized room. The beige stone walls reached over 30 feet high and ran 100 feet from one corner to the other, with no decorations what so ever outside of six quinto acuto windows. The floor, on the other hand, resembled a thick old Saxony carpet which had an ability to mold its shape based on the pressure put on it. Once the duel started and the dueling platform were locked, the firm carpeted floor changed from its typical solid state into a water bed-like consistency, protecting any student hit by a curse from any serious harm caused by falling. Any other harm was free game. Tom loved dueling. It was a great opportunity to test one's practical knowledge of magic and practice reflexes, which he knew, in the end, was the only thing that counted face to face with an enemy. If he ever were to accomplish his dream for immortality, he would have to be an exceptional wizard in mind as well as in practice. Actually, he would have to be better than exceptional, because all the famous wizards and withes, such as Merlin or Morgan le Fay, were exceptional, but none of them managed to live longer than 300 years (I know Flamel and his wife were aged more than that, but let's say that Riddle doesn't know about them yet).

Tom frowned at the thought. It would be easier, if the books on those horcruxes were where they were supposed to be. Holding onto his original plan, he headed straight to the corner of the dueling platform, where Minerva Mcgonagall was already standing, practicing her hand twirl.

"Hello, Minerva, how are you today?" he asked politely his classmate.

Minerva stopped her practice, lowering the wand, and raised her eyebrow suspiciously: "What is it, Riddle?"

The tone she utilized every time they talked was like an exact parallel to their relationship- cold and formal. The always sweet and helpful 7th year Head Girl never really warmed up to him. Due to their age difference and her busy schedule two weren't even expected to be friends or create some strong bond, but even the minimal information exchange they have done was more than stand-offish. Maybe it was because she, as one of very few, could see through his innocent mask down to his empty soul, or maybe and in Tom's mind more likely, her visions were poisoned by the old fool Dumbledore, who decided to take the little half-blooded witch underneath his protective wings. And as every good girl, Mcgonagall obeyed transfiguration teacher's every command and followed every suggestion.

Tom had to pick his words wisely: "I am working on our Runes essay for Rodhnick, and I would like to read Mystical Hieroglyphs, but it wasn't in the library and as you and Mr. Lukegrass are the only ones allowed to check-out books from the Restricted Section, I would like to ask if you have it and whether it would be possible for me to borrow it for just a couple minutes. I'd be grateful. " Tom used a random book's name he knew was available only in RS, because mentioning even the slightest interest in any sort of darker magic to the nosy witch would be like running to Dumbledore himself.

"No, I do not. Try Norris or Mrs. Rodhnick. " she stated simply and turned her attention back to her practice.

"Not even the second part or at least Runes of Ancient Mage?" persisted Tom- again using a random book.

Minerva frowned and he could tell she is resisting rolling her eyes in annoyance: "No, I do not. Actually, I do not have ANY book from RS!" She stated firmly, trying to get rid of Riddle as soon as possible, and also unknowingly giving him just the information he needed.

"Well, thank you anyway. I shall try the Head Boy, then." Tom forced a polite smile, gave the older student a small bow as was custom and joined other Slytherins, who've gathered in far back of the classroom.

Soon after, Slughorn, who was this year's dueling instructor, walked in with the new girl, Serena Durand, in his heals. He laughed merrily at something she said and waved his hand lightly disregarding her statement, leaving the young girl looking quite puzzled.

Maybe she wasn't so good after all, thought Tom. She probably worried about fighting male students just like other girls and was trying to appeal to Slughorn to let her skip, or at least set her with easier oponents. Females never lasted in this class- usually running out after the first duel with tear stained cheeks- leaving Minerva Mcgonagall to be the only girl in this course. At least until now. The French witch didn't seem to notice the fact though. She stood calmly near the platform, waiting for professor to start the class.

"So, who will volunteer today?" asked Sloghorn with a huge smile, searching through the mass for any raised hands. Normally, at least one or two students would step up and be rewarded 5 points for going willingly, but that wasn't the case today. Not a single person moved or showed any intention to do so. Tom lazily raised his hand just to be immediately pulled out of the crowd by the tubby instructor.

Horace petted young's back and said: "Tom, ma' boy! It's pleasure to have my best student at hand!" Then he turned back to the student body and asked again for the second volunteer, but yet again no body spoke. His eyes fell on the French : "Miss Durand, you are new here and my colleagues tell me you excel at everything you touch... Would you like to try your abilities against Tom? I'm sure he will go easy on you." Slughorn winked at her and laughed at his own private joke, pressing the said boy closer to his side.

Serena didn't look too entertained. She glanced at Tom and swallowed: "Eh.." she struggled: "I would prefer not to." And as soon as she said the classroom broke into a fit of giggles and snorts; even Tom couldn't stop a smug smile from creeping up his face. She was scared to fight him! And he was almost worried that she could be a concurrence. Obviously, he was wrong. She paled and looked confusedly around her laughing classmates. Tom had to close his eyes so he doesn't start laughing at the obvious discomfort of the new girl.

"Ok, I'll do it!" exclaimed the girl after a second of silence. Tom was undoubtedly surprised at the girl's behavior, but at the same time he wanted to learn how much exactly she knew of magic. She wouldn't have be selected TA, if she was unintelligent or untalented. Tom, who was already up on the knee-high platform, smiled politely and stretched his hand out to offer her help getting up there. The curly haired witch took a deep breath to calm her nerves, snapped her fingers and her wand slit out of her forearm wand holder right into her open palm. Then she tapped it twice on the top of her thick hair bun and almost everybody gasped at what followed. Her long layered Slytherin school robes turned into a simple pair of torn jeans and light gray worn hoodie. Tom watched amazed, just as others, the highly inappropriate clothing. No girls wore pants, ever. Minerva, the only other girl in the classroom, covered her mouth scandalized and the male audience just openly stared with their jaws hanging low, whispering 'wow's. But Serena didn't seem to mind. Her eyes were concentrated only on Tom. Their hands connected, and he pulled her up next to him. As soon as she regained her balance to stand on her own, she jerked her hand out of his like it was burned and took a couple hurried steps away from him.

Professor Slughorn was the first one to come out of the shock and laughed: "Alright! Alright! Let's begin then. Miss Durand, I believe you know all the rules already. Just remember, we are only trying to disarm the opponent, not kill, so be careful and show me your best! Good luck!"

Young Voldemort reached into his pocked for his own wand and turned towards the new witch. She bowed and he copied her movements to let the duel begin.

"Expeliarmus." The disarming curse sped furiously towards Tom's opponent. It wasn't strong one, but it was perfectly aimed. It was just a foot away from reaching her and she didn't make any attempt to put up a shielding charm. Tom was now sure of his easy-come victory,until Serena simply stepped aside like she was dodging a pedestrian on the same side of sidewalk, causing the spell to miss her by good ten inches. Astonished Voldemort decided it was time to raise the bar and threw couple disarming spells and even one stunner at her, but the young witch dodges every single one with the precision of an auror. In the background he heard professor Slughorn cheering Serena on to 'finally' use some magic, but he was too concentrated on his choice of the next step to pay any attention to him. Then he got a great idea- with the use of basic transfiguration charm he turned the old-fashioned watch on his wrist into a small metal dagger and flung it forward in an incredible speed, so Serena had no chance to jump away. The sharp weapon whooshed past her, ripping the thin material of her gray sleeve close to the elbow and following its straight path until it hit the wall, and crashed down with quiet jingle. Serena's eyes widened in fear as she checked her arm for any injury, but when she didn't find any she turned back to him with the frown. Tom watched her silently whip her dark brown wand in a, for him, unfamiliar manner till a small orange spark left its end, quickly gaining speed and size. When he finally casted an armoring charm, the tiny flame has already transformed into a gigantic fire ball and Tom's shield could barely hold it back.

A small part of vicious flames passed through the pale mist of the shielding charm, stinging Tom's right cheek and burning his shiny hair to the dark ashy fuzz. He gasped in pain as the spell wore off, leaving the naked bleeding flesh exposed to the cold air of the castle and drops of salty sweat running down his forehead straight into the open wound. The corners of Serena's mouth shot up a bit turning her frown into an insecure smile and Tom's eyes burned with anger. How could he let this happen? Dark thoughts began to cloud his mind with possible dark curses he could use to make this little bitch suffer and almost perfect spell came to his mind.

"Laitus Nomurus" he whispered.

This spell was power-draining, but very effective and for a dark spell practically untraceable. He himself shifted the base magic of the Cruciatus curse, to manipulate its visibility, style, and impact strength without changing its effects.

Serena gasped for breath, letting her wand drop onto the floor and following shortly after hitting her knees and elbows on the wooden podium. He could tell she felt every last bit of it. Her ribcage moved in faster pace, and hands were shaking. Tom wished to kill her, to make her hurt…

Suddenly he felt a strong pressure closing around his neck like if somebody took a chocking dog collar and dragged him by it backwards. With his free hand he reached for his throat, immediately recognizing the invisible binding straps usually created by Silarius spell- one of the darkest jinx outside of the Unforgivable.

His eyes shot to the witch on the floor before him, still holding on all four. One of her hands was stretched before her, palm up, clutched in a fist-like shape.

Due to the oxygen loss it took him a second to realize it was her casting the spell- wordless and wandless!

His vision started to close in and the last thing he could see before passing out, was the pair of chocolate orbs looking at him with pure defiance.

To be continued..


	7. Of Dark Arts and Temptations

Menteur: Chapter 5: Of Dark Arts and Temptations

September 30, 1943

There it was...

Hermione flexed her hand just a little tighter, which caused the magic clasped around Riddle's neck to contract, forcing its way deeper into his pink flesh, and slowly turning it paler and paler. With a great pleasure, enormous bolts of energy shot through her entire body, as she watched the terror in his eyes right before consciousness left him. His limbs loosened and the motionless body crashed to the floor. The wand slipped from his hand, rolled across the podium and down to the carpeted floor, but Hermione didn't care, nor did she loosen the invisible chains. Her visions started to blacken. She couldn't see straight. It was like all the magic drained from her surrounding and crawled up her back, piercing her heart, lungs and brain, making it impossible to think, yet she held onto every last bit of it. There was only one feeling left: hate. The eternal, raw sense of disgust towards the man in front of her…He was the reason…

She could hear Ron and Ginny screaming in pain, and Remus and Sirius begging for mercy so loud, she was forced to cover her ears with her free hand. The velvet darkness approached.

(flashback)

"Hermione"

"Hey, wake up, Granger!"

The brown haired witch lazily opened her eyes just to close them back up, as soon as the bright golden sunrays hit her face.

"Come on, Lioness." Said the smooth voice again, but this time there was strong hint of despair and pressure in it, so she finally forced her upper body to a sitting position.

"Sorry to wake you, but we need to go."

Hermione, now much more attentive, looked at her blond companion, noticing the worried look in his icy gray eyes, and immediately jumped up from her blanket cocoon. Draco rarely let any emotions show on his soft aristocratic features, so when he did, it must have been really serious. She walked quietly to the frosted window on the west side of the room, which allowed her a clear view of the small paved street outside. It was completely deserted despite the early afternoon hours, which led her to the same conclusion Draco has made just a minute ago- it was time to go.

They have found this place, a small three story building on the edge of small muggle village, two weeks ago and it was, at least until that point, the best hideout they could hope for. The house itself belonged to an old blind woman, whose hearing and motility weren't agile enough for her to worry about the occasional noises coming from the attic, and so they were able to sneak in and settle on the highest floor. It was only one small room with old wooden floors and unfinished insolation, but it had a small window on each side of the house, giving the two uninvited visitors ability to monitor house's surroundings for any possible dangers. They both spent hours sitting in front of those windows, taking turns to watch, chatting or simply making plans for their next move. It was the first place they were able to stay for more than a couple days, which, after two years on the run, made it almost feel like home.

Draco grabbed her backpack and walked to stand next to her: "It was like this for hours." He motioned with his head towards street, then added: "Not a single person"

Hermione nodded silently and took a hold of her backpack.

"I guess it's time to go then…" she sighed.

She didn't want to leave this place. It was great strategic point, but the Death Eaters've probably started to search the neighborhood and it wouldn't be wise to stay. If they ever got even the smallest whiff of her whereabouts, that place would surely within minutes be crawling with Voldemort's minions, destroying anything and anybody standing between them and their master's wish for her demise.

Draco gently pulled on a loose strand of her unruly hair and with the slightest smile pushed it back behind her ear.

With the use of some muffling charms, they soundlessly walked down the two floors of wooden steps, through the small, but neat living room, and into the hallway. Draco, as the one to lead the way, headed straight for the main entrance door, but Hermione couldn't resist stopping and taking one last look into the place she'd eventually came to enjoy. Even though much more deserted and dusty, old lady's living room reminded her of the house her parents used to own near Oxford. Compere to other houses of that time, this one had a specific old-modish vibe to it. The main "attraction" of the room wasn't a TV, but rather large red-brick fireplace set against faded yellow wallpaper, giving off a physical heat, as well as cozy feeling of home. One each side then stood one large armchair and a couple tall wooden bookshelves, all facing a low mahogany coffee table. The last major piece of furniture decorating the intimate area was an old dark-brown, velvet recliner, the preferred dwelling of the house-owner. The old lady would sit there for hours every day, reading, or brushing her fine silvery locks, while humming some nameless melody only she could remember. Hermione gave a small bittersweet smile, when she realized that the lady of the house wasn't in her best mood either. Her velvet throne was facing away from Hermione, but she could still see woman's head resting against the back of the chair and her left hand hanging loosely over the cushiony armrest. Her fingers were long and almost as pale as ivory, hinting the beauty of the past, and setting a perfect contrast to a hefty-looking, crimson gemstone on a golden ring, which was now way too loose for woman's bony fingers. Then the ring slipped and rolled towards the fireplace until it was stopped by fuzzy rug just a yard away from the foot of the chair. Hermione carefully took a one step backwards to hide behind the doorframe she stood in, fully expecting the old lady to get up and reach for her beloved possession, but nothing happened.

Strange, thought Hermione, because the old lady never went to sleep with her window open like that. Witches eyes traveled to the small aperture in the wall. The curtains were almost completely closed like normally to block late afternoon sun from shinning directly onto the recliner, but the double-glassed frame behind them was cracked open… Too strange. ..Hermione pulled out her wand and slowly, step by step, progressed towards the spot occupied by the elderly woman. She heard Draco whisper her name in attempt to call her back, but she felt like she couldn't turn now. The closer she came, the more her heart thumped in her chest, and when woman's face came in to her view, Hermione couldn't help but let out a painful gasp.

The aged face was twisted into a hideous scowl of utmost fear. Lifeless blue eyes were filled with drying blood, which slowly trickeled there from open wounds on the wrinkled forehead. Two words were messily carved onto the tender old skin between her temples: knock, knock. Hermione could recognize the handwriting anywhere, because her own forearm was scarred in it.

"Shit" whispered Draco who suddenly appeared behind the brown haired witch, looking just as alarmed as she was.

"Now it's really time to go!" blurred out the blond heir and pulled Hermione towards the opposite side of the house, leaving the desecrated dead body behind. Hermione simply followed, too startled to talk or even put a solid sentence together in her head. When they reached the back door, he turned back to her and his eyes immediately softened.

He wiped off the lone tear that rolled down Hermione's cheek and wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her closer.

"I will never let anything happen to you, understood?" His hand slit underneath her petite chin and she looked up just to be welcomed by the sweet calming feeling of his soft lips pressed against her own. The kiss didn't linger, but it was enough to make her smile. They intertwined their hands and sneaked out of the heavy wooden door.

Hand in hand they jumped a short white fence leading into a neighbor's garden, and through a small brick walkway between the houses they ran onto the deserted street just a block away from their original position.

"I knew the muggle bait would eventually lure out the mudblood!" high-pitched voice called from behind them. Tall cloaked figure- undeniably Bellatrix Lestrange- stood just a couple yards away from the young couple, laughing hysterically at her own joke as other two Death Eater appeared just next to her, raising their wand towards Draco and Hermione, who decided not to wait around, and, after throwing a couple of exploding hexes, started to run in the opposite direction. More and more Death Eaters apparated onto the street, slowly but surely closing on their human prey, until there was no place to run. They were surrounded. Hermione spun around to count the enemies, and to her dismay found at least twelve, all fight-ready with their wands raised. Draco, who stood good six feet away from her, was, on the other hand, concentrated only on one particular crazy witch. She was slowly walking across the pavement, spinning her wand between her fingers and laughing as she always did.

"What a pleasure to finally see you, little Draco!" exclaimed Bellatrix mockingly as she entered the circle of cloaked assailants.

"Too bad, that this is your girlfriend's last stop" she growled and pointed her wand towards Hermione.

Draco quickly reached into his pocket, pulled out a single wool glove and with "Hermione, catch!" tossed it to confused Hermione. As soon as it landed in her hands, young Gryffinodor recognized the familiar tingling sensation of porkey's transportation and panicked. She tried to let go, drop the magical object, but it was too late. The spell was already activated. Last thing she saw was a burning red curse being shot directly at Draco from no one else than his insane aunt, hitting him straight in the chest….Then everything went blurry…

(end of flashback)

A strong hand pushed Hermione aside so viciously she almost fell over from her kneeling position. The overpowering magic was gone and her vision slowly started to clear. Her eyes followed the path from her clutched hands, across the wooden podium, all the way to the crumbled, motionless body of young Tom Riddle and worried face of Horace Slughorn. She watched the professor to turn Riddle's body around and check his pulse, then calling some younger student over. She didn't need to hear the fanatically spoken words of the chunky man, to be able to guess what exactly he was saying. The ginger haired Hufflepuff departed quickly, with Slughorn and Voldemort's levitating body in his heals and Hermione finally regained control over her body, dragging herself to the edge of the podium and swinging her legs down to the carpet.

She drew a gulp of fresh air into her lungs and held it in for a second before letting go. Her brain just started to figure out what happened. She remembered casting the binding hex perfectly around young Voldomort's neck, and then a strong pull of dark magic embraced her so tightly, that she wasn't able to contain her own magic anymore. She knew that tempting feeling of power which drew her into this state. It wasn't the first time she felt it. The use of such powerful dark magic was known to blind its caster, making him or her practically unable to control their emotions and therefore not being to stop the spell until it has fulfilled its purpose. She has felt it once before, when she found the Death Eater responsible for her parents' death. Her emotions slipped that time and the dark magic fully embraced her mind, resulting in the man's demise. It frightened her then, as she tried to make countless excuses, but now it was even worse. After she'd burned the killer alive, she felt bad and disgusted with herself, but today she felt nothing. There was not a single drop of remorse in her heart for what she did to Riddle, and that scared her more than anything. Dark magic was like a drug, maybe more.

"Are you alright?" asked somebody. Hermione didn't bother to find out who, and simply nodded.

"Eh.." started the soft voice again: "Well, Slughorn'd dismissed the class…maybe you should also go see Mrs. Gray…"

It took a second before the healer's name clicked in Hermione's mind. She raised her head to thank the student for the worry and assure them that she was perfectly fine, but when her gaze met the one of young Minerva Mcgonagall, Hermione's words froze on the tip of her tongue. Young Head Girl simply stood there and observed the new girl, while still waiting for any sort of response. Hermione cleared her throat and hopped into a standing position.

"I don't zink it will be necessary." The Slytherin said cheerily and walked over to her abandoned backpack by an empty table. Lying to a younger version of her favorite professor was even worse than lying to Headmaster himself. Her heart clutched a little when she saw Minerva's partly puzzled- partly hurt expression, but she couldn't tell her. Nor would it be wise to hang around someone, who will in future practically become your mentor. It was simply too big of a risk for both of them, Hermione knew.

And so she was very glad, when Minerva decided not to push the issue and quietly departed, sparing both of them the unnecessary lies, which would surely follow were Minerva to stay and question her. When she reached for her old-new school bag, she noticed another one left behind just few steps away from hers. She scanned the classroom for any other students, but met only with an empty, silent space. So she decided to check it out and walked to the black leather bag. When she opened it up to find out whom did it belong, a small familiar notebook with golden corners fell out. She couldn't believe her luck, as her fingers traced the small metal plaque with neat inscription: Tom Marvolo Riddle.


	8. Diary and Ring

Menteur: Chapter 6: Diary and Ring

October 2, 1943

"Follow her and find out as much as you can, but be careful. Don't make her suspicious." Tom Riddle's smooth voice ordered a dark clothed figure standing next to his neatly made bed. The figure simply nodded and swiftly left the Hospital Wing.

XXXXXX

(AN: Here Hermione's going through the memory sequence of TMR's diary like HP did in HP2)

Hermione excitedly followed the young 1st year out of the classroom through the misty, distorted vicinity of the diary's memory. His thick dark hair was all disheveled as he kept running his hand through it and clenching it harshly in between his fingers. The all-knowing obsidian eyes betrayed no emotion, but Hermione could tell just how distressed he was from the events she'd just witnessed. Little Tom Riddle had obviously more imperfections than expected. For over twenty minutes she watched his endless, unsuccessful tries to master simple transfiguration charm, while all the other peers were already preparing to work on the next spell in their textbooks. To describe it simply, young Riddle's technique seemed essentially as bad as Neville's… Countless times the little boy picked up his wand and flawlessly repeated the already memorized movement, but nothing happened. Not a single beam of light, not a single spark escaped the tip of his wand, leaving the old white cloth, which was supposed to be a fork by now, unchanged.

Lost deep in her thoughts Hermione almost didn't notice how abruptly the young boy stopped when he reached adjacent intersection of the corridor. She quickly followed his line of sight towards a small group of Slytherin boys, some of whom were in Tom's transfiguration class and others she have never seen before. A lanky boy with long smooth red hair and exceptionally chunky nose spotted Tom and promptly alerted others. At first Hermione was certain that they must be Knight of Walpurgis or other of Voldemort's minions, but the predatory look in their eyes aimed at young Voldemort told her otherwise. Tom's cold features reminded passive, but Hermione noticed his fingernails were now viciously drilled deep into the ashy skin of his palms.

"Look who's here!" smirked the ginger and stood almost exactly an arm-length from the noticeably shorter 11year old. The others soon followed his lead and created an unorganized semi-circle around the housemate. Tom timidly pulled his worn-down leather backpack further up on his shoulder and frowned. Then the ginger pulled out his wand.

"What's wrong, little Mudblood? Still no magic, hmm?" the taller boy laughed ferociously and Hermione's eyes went wide as the older fellow fearlessly insulted Slytherin's heir.

Without any delay Tom pulled out his wand with shaking hands and muttered: "I can do magic, so leave me alone, Jason!" But that only earned him a laud round of laughter from the group.

"Oh, I don't think so, Tommy-boy…" whispered the ginger boy, Jason, and traced the tip of his light cinnamon colored wand around Riddle's exposed neck. "For you see," he continued: "We cannot have just any little Mudblood soiling our house's prestige."

Riddle gritted his teeth at that: "I'm not soiling anything. I was sorted into Slytherin properly just like you!" He tried to push the assailant's wand away from his throat with his free hand, but Jason was quicker and grabbed the hand before Tom had a chance to do anything. He pulled the dark haired boy closer and growled dangerously: "You only got accepted to Hogwarts because that muggle-lover Dumbledore felt pity for you!"

"That's not true…"defended Tom, but from Hermione's point of view it sounded like he himself wasn't sure of the truth in that statement. Jason snorted humorlessly: "Prove it" and then he slashed his wand vigorously through the air, sending 11-year old Riddle flying backwards, through Hermione's aerial body and towards one of the stone wall, where his body noiselessly crushed to the ground.

Surprised Hermione watched the group of laughing Slytherins slowly stroll by and into the next corridor, before turning to the small boy curled up on the floor. It was obvious that only thing that was seriously hurt was his fragile pride. He sat- unharmed- quietly on the ground with his legs pulled close to his chest and his ebony wand laying but a foot away. Still, he made no move to pick it up. The beautiful obsidian eyes gradually went from angry and hurt to completely vacant, impassive look and Hermione could feel the strange tingling sensation as the black leather diary slowly pushed her out of Tom's private memories back to her table at the deserted part of the library.

This wasn't the first of Riddle's memories she witnessed today. She went through the majority of the diary; starting at Tom's latest discovery of his Slytherin heritage just a month or two ago, she watched many episodes of his life- both sad and happy- but she had not yet encountered one quite like this. From what she understood, Tom obtained this diary early on in September 1938 as a present from Dumbledore himself to celebrate his Hogwarts acceptance and it contained all the visions and memories Tom had put in. This aspect, of course then, made the information Hermione's found highly selective and subjective. Riddle commemorated very little and mostly just things related to his magical research, such as horcrux-making techniques and different disillusionment charm types. In all of those memories Tom Riddle was just as she expected: cold, calculating, and brilliant manipulator, but during the run-in with Jason and his friends in Tom's first year at Hogwarts, for the first time Hermione noticed a sign of emotion other than hatred or indifference in those mysterious eyes. The kid in the diary seemed so different from Voldemort she knew. So very…

"Excusez-moi, Mademoiselle Durand?" Somebody lightly tapped on Hermione's shoulder, making her jump up from the cushioned wooden stool and turn abruptly. The cheek of her face came in contact with soft, dark-mahogany material of a shirt covering a muscular chest. Instead of acting gracefully and apologizing for her maladroitness, young witch's war reflexes kicked in and she pushed herself with all her might as far from the unknown threat , which proved to be a very bad idea considering her legs' proximity to the low coffee table she was working on. Before she could clumsily trip over the said table though, a strong arm sneaked around her waist, stabilizing her enough to stand back up and Hermione met with a positively entertained gaze of young Abraxas Malfoy.

"I-I'm sorry…"stuttered Hermione. Suddenly she wasn't sure whether her temporary lack of the ability to breath was caused by the traumatic nearly-fall experience or the immediate closeness of the handsome blond wizard's body. As if he realized their awkward position, Malfoy let go of her waist and took a quick step back.

When they both calmed down from the unexpected encounter, Abraxas smiled brightly, put his right palm on his chest and elegantly bowed down: "Please, Mademoiselle Durand, accept my apology for any unpleasantness I may have caused you. I was merely wondering if I could borrow that book." He stated smoothly while pointing somewhere behind her. She turned towards a book of potions' basics lying on the coffee table. She couldn't even recall why she had taken it from the book shelf and was positive she won't be needing it anymore. Her eyes wandered over to the blank pages of Tom Riddle's diary just couple inches away from the book. She hurriedly pushed the leather covers closed and dropped it in her school bag before Malfoy could catch a glimpse of what is was. She loved Draco, but she knew very well that other men of Malfoy clan were not to be trusted, ever. Only sometimes it was hard to remember; especially facing the familiar aristocratic features and rare genuine smiles of Malfoys.

Abraxas' sumptuous dark eyebrow shot up in amusement at girl's secretive behavior, but then he simply waved his hand dismissively and offered: "Don't worry, Mademoiselle Durand, I won't be nosy. Believe it or not, we, Slytherins don't like interfere with each other's business, because we tend to keep enough of our own secrets. "

Now it was time for Hermione to look amused: "Personal experience?" she quetioned with a smug smile. Malfoy's mouth fell open at witch's blunt flirtatious tone, but soon recovered and chuckled.

"Abraxas Malfoy, at your service" he smirked friendlily and stretched his hand towards his female classmate.

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. She wasn't sure if she should even be talking to the Voldemort's minion #1. A close contact with anyone, especially someone whose children's lives are so tightly intertwined with hers in the future, posed a real threat to her mission, especially after she just proved to be a potential threat herself by beating Riddle and openly using dark spell on school grounds. On the other hand, the blond heir could be her ultimate ticket to any news on Voldemort's plans and projects. Maybe Abraxas even knew who Riddle's secret friend was. That is, if it's even true and Dippet didn't just make it up to bring some excitement to his pathetic, boring, bureaucratic life…, thought bitterly Hermione, but on the outside she forced a tiny smile and took Malfoy's awaiting hand.

" Serena Durand. It'z pleazure to meet you, Monsieur Malfoyee."

Malfoy bend down to kiss the knuckles of her hand, when the large emerald ring on her ring finger came to his view. He stop in the middle of his movement and ran the distal phalanx of his thumb across the shiny gem, turning it slightly sideways on Hermione's delicate finger and exposing detailed engraving of a snake crest entwined between stray Tilia twig and neatly inscribed letter 'M'.

Hermione cursed under her breath and snatched the hand out of Malfoy's grasp. "Look, I'm sorry. I have to go.": she mumbled, grabbing her bag and leaving stunned Abraxas blankly staring down at his own hand, where an exact twin copy of Hermione's ring was proudly encircling his middle finger and verifying his rightful place as a Malfoy family heir.

XXXTo be continuedXXXX

For those who forgot, Hermione got the ring when she married Draco (before he died and she was thrown to the past), who got it from his mother, who got it from Lucius, who got it from his father Abraxas…so that's why now there are two copies of the same ring

Tilia tree= Linden tree

Distal phalanx = the inside part of one's finger segment furthest from the palm aka. The cushioned part of your finger :D


	9. Minerva's Interlude

Menteur: Chapter 7: Minerva's Interlude

October 5, 1943

Minerva flipped to another page of her advanced NEWTs Transfiguration book and promptly skipped only though the most important terms, so she could move to another chapter as soon as possible. The preparation for her final wizarding exams was truly a exhausting, excruciating and nerve-wracking experience. Since there were only five months left till the said exam, the head girl decided to start her studying with the subject she excelled at and then move onto the other seven. She was very satisfied with her progress so far, because within a week she had managed to work her way through three of the recommended NEWT books for Transfiguration.

Just as she was to take some notes of Halaha Charm (hmm?), a softly spoken greeting caught her attention, and even though it wasn't meant for her to hear, she recognized the voice. Slowly, to be as silent as possible, the witch rose from her seat and sneak over to the corner bookshelf to get better view. The room she was currently occupying was a spacy, but quiet common place in the shape of 'L' with many cushioned chairs and coffee tables, where students could sit and study without having to deal with food prohibition rules of the main library's study rooms. She peeked into the other part just to see the person she'd expected. The little sneaky, manipulative toad, Tom Riddle, was standing by one of the chairs, smiling politely at the chair occupant, which Minerva immediately identified as the new French exchange student, Serena Durand.

"What iz it, Monsieur…eh…Riddle, izn't it?" Serena asked with wry smile, but Minerva could tell she was just as suspicious of the young male as herself. Tom smiled brightly at the recognition, pulled out a chair across from the girl and sat down. Serena seemed quite surprised by Riddle's behavior and gave him a questioning look.

"I was just wondering if I can offer you my help with whatever you're working on." Tom chuckled, making the curly haired witch uncomfortable. If it had been any other lady in the school, Minerva would expect her to melt at the first mention of spending time with the handsome Slytherin, but not Serena. She was different. This strangely-clothed French was incredibly smart, perceptive and had better magic control than anyone Minerva has ever seen, which was probably why Riddle was there now. He wanted her know-how.

After the first shock has vanished, Serena's expression went cold: "Well, right now I'm working on ze DADA, and az far az I know, I 'ave bested you in zat. So no, thank you." Said Serena and went back to reading her book in silence. Minerva, on the other hand, had troubles keeping herself from laughing out loud, when she saw Riddle's face. She wasn't even sure whether it was astonishment or pain, but it made her laugh. Young wizard recomposed himself, lightly leaned forward, closer to the other Slytherin and Minerva had to do all in her power to hear the next sentence.

"True." Riddle admitted while mimicking Serena's uninterested gaze. Then he leaned even closer, bringing his face mere inches away from the French.

"But I actually have another offer for you…" Goose pumps ran down Minerva's spine, as she listened to Tom's sickly sweet tone and wondered if maybe she was intruding on some private courting ritual… even though she couldn't recall the boy ever being interested in something else than himself.

Serena jerked her head to look at him, frowning. "And that is?" she almost growled. The ever-rising tension in the room made it almost unbearable to breathe properly. Riddle allowed corners of his mouth turn up, to create a suggestive smile and whispered: "There is a… secret club here in school, you see. It's only for the most talented witches and wizards of the same descent and same goal to change the world for better…"

That was it, thought Minerva. She had heard of this secret club of his, but no one could ever prove its existence, so she just disregarded the idea of Slytherins' regrouping power as a school gossip made up by some 1st years. So was it true? And what were those world-bettering goals he spoke of. She averted her gaze from Riddle back to the frowning girl, expecting her answer. Serena quietly stared into Tom's eyes and then got up suddenly. He followed her example and immediately stood next to her, blocking her escape. That's when Minerva noticed slight disturbance around the otherwise calm, static room. Few other students stirred in their seats or stopped their work as Tom and Serena jumped up. After taking a closer look, the head girl recognized all of those students as Riddle's Slytherin followers. There were at least six of them, all now discreetly listening to him speak and Minerva realized this was a set-up for the foreign student. With so many of them backing up Riddle, she will surely be afraid to do anything to decline Riddle's offer.

Serena's eyes slowly drifted around room, signaling that she also noticed the potential danger. For a second she glared angrily at Riddle, but then suddenly her expression changed into a self-satisfied, malicious smirk.

"Join your club? And why should *I* join, or better yet- follow- , somebody like* you*?"

Riddle feigned surprise, still keeping everything polite: "Somebody like me?"

Next thing Serena said almost knocked Minerva's breath out of her chest.

"A mudblood" spat out viciously Serena, and the pleasure from torturing Riddle was obvious in her face. He noticed, too. And so did his followers.

Minerva had no idea of Tom's heritage. She never paid much attention to him, until her Transfiguration professor hinted the foul, manipulating game the young Slytherin learned to play. Only thing she ever knew him for was being an exceptional wizard with lots of wits and book knowledge, so she never even expected him to be muggle-born. Not that she was a muggle hater. After all, she was a half-blood herself, therefore there was no prejudice to be held, but it still surprised her. From the shocked, and sometimes even disgusted, faces of his fellow housemates, this new information surprised them, too. Why was a muggle-born even admitted to the house of Salazar Slytherin.

Within a mili-second Tom's and Serena's wands were out and at each other's throats, slowly being followed by couple of indecisive spectators, who also prepared to duel.

"You know nothing of my ancestry, Durand. Bad things happen to witches, who aren't careful of their tongues." Riddle gritted his teeth, but that didn't seem to frighten the older witch a slightest bit.

"Maybe, but iz it not true, zat you live in muggle orphanage, Mizter Riddle?" she paused and her corrupted smile widened at his lack of words before she continued: "I actually 'appened to meet a certain muggle named Thomas Riddle Sr. Are you sure 'e's not a relative of yours? Father, perhaps?"

Riddle's night sky eyes widen as the wave of anger washed over him, all color draining from his already sickly pale skin. He opened his mouth to curse the French witch to Oblivion or even further, but before he had chance, a powerful voice sounded through the study.

"Is there problem here?"

Minerva joined everybody's line of sight leading to the two older men standing at the entrance; one noticeably older and shorter, Armando Dippet, and other taller and slowly graying Dumbledore. Headmaster's face was as always happy-go-lucky kind of face, but Dumbledore's features were nearly unreadable. All the students, who were about to engage in the fight swiftly hidden their wands behind their backs like little children caught stealing cookies, except Serena and Tom. Those kept their wands in their hands but lowered them regardless.

"Well?" asked Dippet calmly.

Tom glanced at Serena, before answering: "Not at all, sir. We were only practicing some charms for our class." He flashed one of his charming smiles of innocence and Minerva couldn't help but roll her eyes.

Just as Dippet was about to let the two Slytherins continue their 'study session', Dumbledore turned to the French girl and asked: "Is that true, Miss Durand?"

"Yes, professor." Answered Serena, surprised at old professors distrust. "I waz just explaining him some more complex magic control." Smiled Serena sweetly. Then turned to Riddle and with the sametoothy smile added: "Izn't it so, Tommy?" Her amber orbs glowed with malevolence, when she said the diminutive form of his name. Whatever feelings Riddle felt, he covered them perfectly and smiled casually at two professors: "Indeed. I'm very thankful that Miss Durand found the time in her busy schedule to help me broaden my knowledge of the matter."

Dippet smiled merrily and waved his goodbye to the two, but the Transfiguration teacher lingered behind.

"Miss Durand" he smiled warmly at the petite girl: "I would like to ask you some question about your studies. Do you have a time to join me for a short walk, perhaps?"

"Definitely, sir." She grinned back and picked up all her books, but before she followed Dumbledore out into the hallway, she turned to Riddle and whispered so the professor won't hear: "I'm not interezted in joining your little club, Riddle, zo ztay out of my way."

Then she spun on her heal and left Tom and his quickly reddening face behind.

Minerva didn't even bother to hide her shocked stare as furious Slytherin boy harshly pushed pass her, not giving the head girl a second glance.

XXXTBCXXXX


	10. When Friends Become Foes

Many of the sentences in this chapter are Hermione's thoughts even though they are not in italics/cursive.

Menteur: Chapter 8: When Friends Become Foes

October 5, 1943

As soon as all the prying Slytherins were out of earshot, Hermione let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. She was never a vengeful person, and, for an obvious reason, she really despised using of the M-word, but in this case it was simply necessary…or at least the best thing she could think of at the moment. Ever since her disastrous run-in with Mr. Malfoy and her wedding ring, paranoid thoughts didn't cease to nag at the back of her mind. The curly-haired witch was positive he recognized the precious trinket; after all he was the current rightful owner, and in about a decade, he will pass it down to his piece of human garbage of a son, Lucius, who will eventually give it to Draco and therefore unknowingly send it right into Hermione's hands. The eldest Malfoy has probably already informed his Master of the strange coincidence that the new girl had an exact copy of his family heirloom, which will inevitably lead to further and deeper investigation of her persona. On the brighter side, that unfortunate event had also made Hermione realize just how important are the Knights of Walpurgis to young Voldemort. Without them, their parents' contacts and wealth, Tom was nothing more than a 16year old wizard… an evil, brilliant and incredibly cunning 16year old wizard, but, still, only a wizard. Just like her. This fact alone gave her a tremendous advantage, since she was more than seven years older and had plenty of direct combat experience from the war. However, she needed to do some extra preparations before facing Riddle once and for all, and that was almost impossible with his little devotees crawling everywhere, studying her every move and undoubtedly reporting to their master, tout de suite. So she decided to get rid of them, and revealing Riddle's controversial heritage was just the thing to make many of the snobbish, traditional, conservative purebloods question their loyalties. Especially, since they were- or so did Hermione judge from the diary entries- oblivious to his position as Salazar's direct descendant and heir. She resisted the urge to pat herself on the back and focused on the problems at hand- namely Albus P. Dumbledore, the Transfiguration teacher, great protector of peace, and soon-to-be master of the Elder Wand.

Her particularly dreadful mood and the sigh didn't go unnoticed by the elder professor, who was patiently waiting for her outside of the study room.

"So, tell me, Miss Durand, how is your preparation for NEWTs going?" said the wizard lightly, while rubbing his graying beard. They started to walk leisurely deeper into the castle.

Hermione paused to think about her answer. With all the stalking she did recently, she has completely forgotten about any exams. To be honest, she did not even expect to stay at Hogwarts till then. The plan was to separate Riddle from others, eradicate him, and then, if she survives of course, leave England as soon as possible to…well, she actually didn't plan that far ahead. The big possibility was the United States, Philadelphia, to be exact. Some of the most recent time-traveling research was conducted there…

"Splendidly, professor Dumbledore." She lied enthusiastically, but inside her mood dropped significantly. It was quite ironic, that the biggest bookworm and school lover in history won't be able to graduate. Not even the second time around.

Dumbledore's smile widened, as he put his hand around her shoulders in friendly gesture, and motioned her into the next corridor. His grip wasn't unpleasant, but there was an unspoken tightness and dominance in it.

"So I hear. My colleagues tell me you are quite the catch… " He nodded, the carefree grin never left his lips, but it wavered as he said the next sentence. "Some even compare your skills to ones of a trained auror… "

Hermione's head snapped up.

Was THAT the current gossip in Hogwarts?

The redhead's face reminded passive. Perhaps his twinkly blue eyes hidden behind the half-moon shaped glasses didn't notice her sudden reaction regarding his comment, or maybe he simply decided to ignore it. One thing was certain though- the remark wasn't just a polite conversation. The elder wizard was suspicious, which put Hermione on the verge of a big decision. Tell or not to tell?

In the past (or actually future) Dumbledore was always Harry's biggest ally in the battle against the ever growing dark forces, but that was different time. Dumbledore of the future had seen the evil lingering in the young man's soul and had experienced the hardest of betrayals from the ranks of his friends. Would this Dumbledore be able to do give up his hopes for that talented youngster? Would he be willing to help defeat the one he cares so much about? Surly, he must be somewhat aware of who his beloved fosterling really is, Hermione thought.

She took a deep breath and whispered so softly she wasn't sure if he even heard her: "…and if I am?"

There was a pregnant pause during which they managed to walk all the way to the large wooden door of the Transfiguration classroom. Dumbledore silently opened the door and signaled her in.

As soon as they were safely hidden away from any inquisitive ears, Dumbledore turned towards the young witch. In the crimson light of burning candles, his usually sympathetic harmless face looked just as dangerous as the wizard himself and Hermione suddenly regretted her decision to confide in older wizard.

"Since you've already decided to keep your identity secret, perhaps you could tell me why are you here." His eyebrows were furrowed and the tone of his voice dark like he was speaking to a mere criminal suspect.

Hermione wasn't really surprised that he knew more about her than he let on, nor was she surprised by the mistrust she was being regarded with.

"There is somebody… a dangerous wizard in this school, who must be dealt with.." The older wizard's face didn't betray a single emotion, as she spoke openly about the truth they both knew, but he did turn his face away like he was ashamed. Then suddenly his expression changed.

"You have no proof of that" To Hermione's surprise Dumbledore sounded annoyed, almost angry.

Maybe it wasn't the best idea, she thought, maybe it really took those fifty years for Dumbledore to fully understand the hazard of letting Tom Riddle to roam free.

"Not yet, but, professor, he won't stay in shadows for long, he will step out, and when he does…" Hermione's voice trailed off, because she didn't know how to continue that sentence, or whether to finish it at all. Should she tell him of Moaning Mirtle? Of the Basilisk hidden in the heart of the school itself? Or maybe of Riddle Sr., who will die the following summer of 44 at the hands of his own son? Was saving few people worth breaking every rule of time traveling?

"No" Dumbledore's commanding voice pierced the cold evening air like an assassin's sharp sword would pierce through the throat of an unsuspecting victim(Yes, I do read too much of Tolkien and play too much of Skyrim): "He still has a chance. He belongs in Hogwarts and I'm keeping an eye on him…". There was no need to call names, nor to speak them aloud.

"That won't be enough, when he finds the Chamber!" Hermione's hand flew up to cover her mouth immediately after she realized she nearly yelled the last part. The young witch wanted- no, she needed- powerful wizard's help. Before the damn time-turner broke and this whole mess started, there was always somebody by her side, be it her best friends, Harry and Ron, or Draco, who might not have been the biggest conversationalist, but at least she always had somebody to hold her hand and listen to her when the times got tough. And now a possible ally, and an old friend, was standing before her, looking like she was the last person he would put his trust in.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind and silently turned away to walk towards his private chambers' door at the back of the classroom. Hermione watched his retreating back, before heading the opposite direction. The heavy feeling of surrender hung above her head, temporarily allowing a small void in her heart wider and wider until it completely clouded any other emotions she held.

Before she was able to reach the doorknob the Dumbledore called from the other side of the classroom: "I must warn you, Miss Durand, if anything happens to ANY of my students, I will make sure the culprit WILL BE punished…" Then he disappeared into his chambers and Hermione was painfully reminded that every ally, no matter how honorable, can become an enemy.

XXXXTBCXXXXX


	11. Being Malfoy

Menteur: Chapter 9: Being Malfoy a.k.a. The Unexpected Date Part 1

October 7, 1943

It was well after 5 o'clock in the afternoon, when Abraxas Malfoy finally sat down in his customary spot on the stone bench in one of the many courtyards of the castle. The others were already there; ladies in light summer dresses, seated on the opposite bench of his, lively chatted between themselves, only occasionally involving the three guys sitting next to him, who, on the other hand, looked like they had no intention of starting any sort of spoken pleasantries. All of the students, whose family's name meant something, gathered at an agreeable place on the grounds and enjoyed late afternoon hours, conversing and sipping a tea. This happened every Thursday.

Cygnus Black tiredly stretched his legs further from the bench in attempt to reach the last fading rays of warm sunshine, while Septimus pulled a square-shaped golden cigarette case and offered one to Thaddeus, who gladly accepted. Dorea, Thaddeus' fiancé, opened her mouth to pester her soon-to-be husband about particularly unhealthy habits, but Belvina tugged on her sleeve and discreetly pointed to the other side of the small area.

"Look, that's her" Abraxas didn't bother even looking at the poor unsuspecting victim of gossip, the girls were about to mock. They always did that.

"Pfft! A pure-blood from France? Hardly! I mean look at her! She's dressed like…like…like a man."

Serena? Malfoy swung his platinum-haired head around to see the French. She was reading a large book in an alcove not far from them and she was, indeed, wearing trousers. Her back was arched to fit comfortably with the rounding shape of the alcove's wall, while her feet were kicked up diagonally, resting high on the opposite wall to give her enough leverage to balance the heavy book in her lap.

Dorea frowned doubtfully: "Maybe it's the latest fab…I've heard she is very rich…"

Abraxas' eyes left the foreigner and settled on the two ladies in front of him in hope to find more information about the new girl.

True to be told, she intrigued him since the first day she arrived. It was the same day he met with Riddle and other Knights on the edge of school grounds, ended up getting cursed and left in the woods. Last thing he remembered was a blurry figure of pink and brown, bending down to him and telling him to be still. Then there was the feeling of soft fingers tracing the large wound on his exposed chest and nothing after that. When he awakened the next day, a healer's maid has told him that somebody had dropped him off late last night on one of the beds, where she had found him later, unconscious, but mostly healed.

Abraxas wasn't stupid and was quickly able to deduce who was the one that saved him. It was also the reason why he hasn't told Riddle about the incident with the suspicious ring yet. She could be a distant family member, he thought even though there was very little chance for Malfoys to have relatives in France, especially ones with the exact same coat of arms. Plus, this witch looked and behaved nothing like Malfoys, or pure-bloods, for that matter. Most of the time, she simply kept to herself; talking only when spoken to, and sometimes not even that. The rest she spent in the library or walking by the Dark Lake. Often he thought about joining her during the afternoon, but never really found the courage necessary to go talk to her, since she so boldly declined Riddle's offer to side with the Knights.

"Oh, you mean she could be…a mudblood?" Letitica, the youngest of Rosier siblings, who also happened to be betrothed to Abraxas, whispered hesitantly. Septimus' brows shot up in distrust, while Cygnus shook his head with the low chuckle.

"No way, she's too hot to be a mudblood!" declared Taddeus with laughter, which earned him a very disapproving look from Dorea. The three boys promptly tagged onto the argument whether the new girl is of decent origin or not, while Abraxas' attention nonchalantly wandered back the alcove.

Taddeus got one thing right- Serena was pretty, quite beautiful actually. Her long raven strands curled in the most unnatural manner away from her face, making the whole thing look more like a mane of a wild lion than normal hair and her large chocolate eyes reflected all the wit and pride hidden behind them. Perhaps she was still little too thin for a standard, even though she did seem to literally stuffed herself at every meal like somebody was about to take the food away from her forever. Normally, due to her highly conservative style of clothing, one would not notice, but, when Serena first arrived, her body resembled a skeleton with sunken cheek, dark circles underneath her eyes, and dangerously pale skin. Abraxas noticed though. He also noticed the constant guardedness the girl displayed, like she never really felt safe.

But why? His stream of thoughts was interrupted by Septimus' loud yawn: "Ahhh-I think we should call it a night. I still have a lot of homework to slag off on." Then he stood up and offered his hand to Belvina as a proposal to escort the ladies to their respective dorms, since Dorea was in Ravenclaw, while all the others were in Slytherin - with exception of Septimus Weasley, but he was no lady and he definitively didn't need any help getting his behind to that, as Cygnus once called it, tower of Reckless Horror and Zero Forethought.

Letitice patiently waited for Abraxas to help her up and lead her as customs called for with soon-to-be-married pairs. He gently took her gloved hand in his and pulled her up. She was fairly short with a petite frame, so it caused him no problems what so ever, but as soon as she was standing on her own feet, Abraxas let go of her hand and turned to Cygnus, who was just about to put up his cigarette and walk off.

"Hey, Black! Would you mind taking Letitice back to the common room? I.." he paused, thinking about a good excuse to stay behind: "I still have some business to attend to."

Cygnus gave him a puzzled look at first, but then his eyes wandered over to the lonely French student in the alcove and the understanding dawned on him. The corners of his mouth turned into a mocking smirk.

"Suuure, mate." Replied the black haired Slytherin with a theatrical wink and grabbed Letitica's hand. Abraxas simply rolled his eyes instead of dignifying his friend's comment with an actual response, and bowed to his fiancée.

When the two Slytherins finally left the small grassed area, Abraxas spun around to face the alcove. Serena was still sitting there, hunched over her book, oblivious to anything around. Suddenly, as if she could feel his gaze on her, her head snapped up in search of the suspected disturbance. Her eyes found his almost immediately. There was no turning now. The young wizard slowly walked towards her and she watched his every step, calculating and sorting through her options.

"Bonjour, Mademoiselle Durand" greeted her Abraxas with a slight bow.

"Mizter Malfoy, w'at can I do for you?" Her dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as if she would never expect him to talk to her.

"I was wondering if you would perhaps join me for a walk" He asked smoothly and when he saw her indecisive face, quickly added: "The grounds look quite lovely during the sunset."

She stared at him for a good while, before finally deciding in his favor: "Uh, alright"

When all her books and quills were neatly put away in her school bag, Abraxas bent down to pick it up. It was customary for a young man to carry lady's bag when on a date or similar occasion, so the lady can walk around freely without any encumbrance or possibly hold the man's hand…even though somehow Abraxas doubted this witch would have the slightest trouble carrying her own stuff, it was still the polite thing to do.

"What are you doing?" she growled and hastily grabbed one of the shoulder straps.

Abraxas looked quizzically at the lady's brown leather backpack in his hands. "I am carrying your bag for you" he stated the obvious, not really sure what was the witch asking. She eyed his suspiciously, before letting go of the shoulder strap she was still holding.

"Um, thank you then…I guess" Serena said, while putting on some pathetic excuse for a smile.

With that straightened out, they left the courtyard, and headed towards the open gate leading to wide sun-lit grounds. The walk was silent, filled with awkward glances here and there, because none of them knew how to start a conversation after the ring debacle. It was evident to Abraxas, that she knew he recognized the ring immediately, yet neither was willing to bring it up.

He carefully peeked at the witch next to him from the corner of his eye. In the warm glow of the setting sun, her brown orbs glimmered with shades of gold and amber, making a perfect contrast to the thick dark eyelashes which framed them. He spotted a short, narrow and almost invisible scar right above her right cheekbone, running from the corner of her eye almost all the way to the hairline, where it slowly vanished. It was perfectly straight and its edges look perversely definite and clear, so it must have been cutting curse, thought Abraxas. Duel, perhaps? But would they allow such a dangerous spells to be used during classes at her old school? That would explain her extraordinary abilities to handle herself like she did in the duel with Riddle. Her reflexes were exceptionally quick; most of the time she simply dodged the spells instead of wasting her energy on magical shields, which was largely unnecessary in school duels under the supervision of professors, but could be highly practical in a, let's say, war… Everyone, who at least occasionally read the Prophet, knew that the situation in France was not the best since Grindelwald came into power, but did even teenagers have to fight?

"Why did you come to Hogwarts?" asked Abraxas abruptly, no longer able to contain his curiosity.

"Is this a walk or an inquisition?" Serena feigned offence, but her snobbish expression was soon exchanged for a simple mocking smile.

Abraxas chuckled at his own bluntness and smiled down at the witch with the same mocking tone: "Very well, would you rather talk about the weather then?"

And the awkwardness broke.

"No, I guess not." Serena shook her head and turned to face him for the first time since they left the castle. Her eyes softened. "But if you must know, my parents simply thought that France wasn't safe anymore, so they sent me here." She went back to staring ahead at the nearing lake.

"I'm sorry. It must be hard for you to be so far from them. Are you going to visit them during the Christmas?" he truly felt bad for the girl. She seemed to have hard time fitting in, and after she so "viciously" beat "poor Tom" in duel, there was very slim chance for her to find any girlfriends in the school and even slimmer in Slytherin. After all, most of people only knew Riddle for being perfectly sweet and charming student, who would never kill a fly. Only Knights knew how "vicious" he was.

"Non. It would be too dangerouz…" Serena kicked a small pebble nervously, but then pulled her act together and smiled again: "Maybe we should talk about zomething more fun. Tell me about yourself, Monsieur Malfoy."

"Well, my full name is Abraxas Nicholas Malfoy. I'm 18 years old, pure-blood, captain of Slytherin Quidditch team and 1944 valedictorian…" he paused briefly, considering whether he should also tell her about his involvement with the Knights, but eventually decided against, since he recently heard about her very blunt refusal of Tom's offer: "…and that's probably all."

"Zo, bezt in graduating clazz, hmm?" teased Serena, obviously not fully convinced of the veracity of the other's claim.

"Yes, is that a surprise?" His eyebrows shot up. It was entertaining how skeptical and doubtful she was of anything he said or did.

"Actually, yes it iz. I assumed since Mizter Lukegrass is 'ead Boy, that 'e would be class' valedictorian…" she explained.

Malfoy smiled brightly at her assumption. He was actually offered the position before Norris, but had to decline due to his frequent absence regarding his work for Malfoy Estates. A year ago, his father, Nicholas Malfoy III., decided that it was time for his only heir to take on some of the family business and learn to deal with investments. Ever since then Abraxas spent every other weekend traveling from estate to estate, settling property arguments, whiting out leases, reporting to his father, and if he were to take on the Head Boy's chores, he wouldn't even have time to sleep. So he decided to pass. Not that he needed the extra boost on his CV, anyway. Malfoys had more money than they could ever spend and a secured position in the Ministry without ever having to do anything. But that was something Abraxas didn't feel like talking about, therefore he merely shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

So they just walked in complete silence, until they stood on the edge of the lake, where they stopped to thoroughly enjoy the last of warm sunrays and peaceful surrounding. The dark surface of the lake mirrored the tarnishing velvety skies and all its open tranquility. Suddenly it was disrupted by couple of wide ripples far of shore. Serena's head perked up, as she tried her best to focus to see what caused the disturbance in water.

"You know, there is a giant squid living down there. People say, if you swim in the lake after dark, it will pull you under and eat you. " smirked Abraxas at the half-truth he just delivered. The giant creature was, indeed, known to reside at the bottom of the lake and many students did fear the lake for that reason, but technically no squid attack was ever reported.

The witch's eyes widened in horror, but when she spoke, her voice was strangely calm, almost uninterested: "Yeah? Have you seen it?"

"No" admitted Malfoy. This lake monster was one of those myths most of the students weren't willing to invalidate.

"Let's go find it then, non?" the most sinister grin spread across her pink lips. She grabbed his hand, and despite all his protests, dragged him closer to the edge of the reservoir.

"What? You mean now?" he panicked. It was slowly getting dark, and he didn't even want to think about how inappropriate it would be if somebody caught them together in the lake…

"Yes. You can swim, can you not?"

"Well, yes, b-but…" before he had a chance to finish Serena pulled her school uniform shirt over her head and let it drop to the ground. Underneath she wore a small sleeveless top, which barely covered her abs and belly button, and a leather forearm wand holder. Then she kicked off her shoes and turned back to the stunned wizard: "Are you coming or not?"

Malfoy swallowed the giant knot in his throat, caused by the undressing witch, and slowly reached to undo his tie. By the time he managed to get out of all the garments safe for his pants and underpants, which modesty didn't let him take off, Serena was already waiting for him on the pier, -to Abraxas' pleasure and horror- almost naked. Only two pieces of clothing left on her slim body were the baby blue colored tank top and a skimpy low-cut panties, which could make even prostitutes blush (They were really not that skimpy, but it is 1940s and Hogwarts, so any tanga or thongs would look highly inappropriate, ne?).

"Are you ready?" asked the witch, completely ignoring his tomato-red face and wide-open mouth. It didn't help much when she intertwined her delicate fingers with his and stood in front of him with huge toothy smile, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Stay still" she whispered, as she pulled out her wand and pointed it to the base of his collarbone. Small light ball escaped the tip of her wand and attached itself to his skin, growing until it was twice the size of his head. The blinding light slowly vanished, finally exposing the spell's true effect. It was a huge glass like bubble fitting tightly around Malfoy's neck to prevent any water from getting in. It was brilliant, he admitted with smile. He should have thought of this way of diving long time ago.

Serena nodded and repeated her previous actions once more, this time to secure her own head. When she was satisfied with the result, it was time to dip in. She gave Abraxas playful wink and with all her might, pushed him off of the pier into the cold dark water below.

TOBECONTINUED


	12. Being Granger

Menteur: Chapter 9: Being Granger a.k.a The Unexpected Date Part 2

October 7, 1943

They swam for at least twenty minutes before they reached the point where the mellow sandy bed of the shallows rapidly declined in a form of underwater cliff consisting of massive rock formations and occasional dirt plateau. Hermione turned to the astonished wizard next to her and the look on his face nearly made her burst with laughter; his clear blue eyes were widened into a size of small saucers and pale lips slightly parted into a shape of an almost perfect 'O'. The childish admiration was obvious. All his normally sharp aristocratic features seemed softer, almost like Draco's…

There was a reason why she agreed to go with him today. She needed information - plain and simple- and if Tom sent Abraxas to lure some out of her, she could at least in return lure some out of him. Two can play this game, after all. The underwater search for the lake monster, on the other hand, was a more spontaneous idea. There was something she needed to do to gain Malfoy's trust, and why not an introduction of a harmless vegetarian giant living on the bottom of the lake, right? (What could go wrong?)

Hermione shook off the uncomfortable feeling, that maybe it wasn't the only reason why she took Abraxas on this trip, and lightly tapped on his shoulder to catch his attention. Then she pointed to a large crater far below, where she knew the squid lived back in her time. The young wizard nodded and followed her closer to the dark opening. To assure she will be able to lure the giant out of its cavern home, Hermione collected hands full of Elodia weed growing on the edge of the cliffs, which was known to be one of the many plants the squid enjoyed, and swam right above the fissure. Bit by bit she opened her arms, letting all the weed slowly sink into the darkness, where it disappeared out of their sights.

Based on his puzzled smirk and teasingly raised eyebrows, Hermione was sure Abraxas just lost even the last bit of his faith in her sanity, if he ever had any to begin with, but she decided that her actions were not worth explaining and simply grinned back at him while making a just-wait gesture. And really, it didn't take more than couple minutes before a huge crimson tentacle-arm emerged from the darkness beneath them. It was at least sixty feet long and sturdier than the oldest of the trees in the Forbidden Forest, slowly almost leisurely, making its way upwards in a hope for more delicious greens and weeds. Hermione smiled as the squid's arm missed her by an arm-length (heh), and signaled Abraxas, who was still lingering in a safe distance, to come closer. The wide-eyed wizard woke up from his self-induced trance and hastily swam towards Hermione's extended, awaiting arm. Their fingers intertwined as they watched the massive tentacle retreat back into the lair, where the rest of its body was still hidden. Obviously, the squid did not find the weeds Hermione provided alluring enough to actually leave the comfort of its home. But the experience of seeing such a beautiful creature was priceless none the less.

Hermione's eyes wondered over to the Malfoy next to her. The piercing blue eyes shined with amazement and pale lips were curved into a wide toothy grin. It was so long since she saw that smile. The picture of Draco flashed through her mind. The youngest Malfoy rarely let himself relax enough for real smile to grace his face, yet the careless grin, he put on every time a new plan sparked up his mind, was permanently burned deep into Hermione's memory. The same grin Abraxas wore right now…So beautiful! She frowned at the undesirable feelings; she should not feel anything for the young man next to her- he was not Draco! He was Abraxas Malfoy, Riddle's right hand, and worst of all, Draco's grandfather. Yet she couldn't tear her gaze away from the flushed lips; they were so close. She could just close her eyes and…

(flashback)

Hermione felt a familiar soothing feeling of something soft brushing against her lips and cheeks, yet she didn't dare to open her eyes to check for its cause, because if she even peeked through her eyelashes, the dream of last night might vanish into nothing more than a distant memory. So she just smiled into the kiss and let the feeling take over.

"Morning" a smooth, husky voice whispered so close to her ear, she could feel the hot breath of its owner making the hair on the back of her neck stand in excitement. Still thinking it's only a dream, instead of answering the young witch leaned further into the soft touches, not bothering with any sort of response.

But the other voice was persistent: "Slept well I hope, Mrs. Malfoy?"

Only after that was she finally brave enough to move her eyelids, allowing one of her amber orbs to be welcomed by a set of pale blue ones, while the other stayed buried in an old fleece blanked, which currently served as a temporary pillow underneath her messy head.

"Better than ever, Mr. Malfoy." She answered truthfully, avoiding his gaze in embarrassment.

She could feel her face getting progressively hotter in a memory of last night's events, which made her husband chuckle lightly as he moved to nibble on her exposed collarbone, while she raised her left hand to inspect the ostentatious wedding band on her ring finger.

If you told her two years ago that one day she's going to leave her childhood romance, Ron, and marry Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger would probably laugh at your face and, and for your own sake, recommend visiting St. Mungo's as soon as possible… but here she was, in arms of the most hated Slytherin and ex-Death Eater, and she felt content. After years of constant battle against the Dark Magic and Voldemort's minions, Draco has gradually become the spark of light in the world of darkness. He was the ideal prince in a shining armor, the perfect soldier and comrade to have on your side in a battle, smart and cunning, but also a soul-mate, who would hold her, on the nights she felt like giving up, until her tears ceased and she was able to sleep again. She would go to the end of the world if he'd only asked her to.

(end of the flashback)

Hermione's eyes fluttered open, focusing on the blond man in front of her. The slight puzzlement, probably caused by her temporary unresponsiveness, soon changed into a blunt smirk, as he swam pass, signaling her to follow. Their surroundings were getting darker every minute from the lack of direct sunlight, and it was time to head back to the shore before the groundskeeper closes the main gate for the night, locking them out.

Abraxas was the first one to reach the grassy bank not far from where they'd left their clothing, closely followed by the dark haired witch. The long swim to the depths of the large lake and back was physically surprisingly exhausting and Hermione was glad to finally drag her now-weary body out of the water, onto the solid ground. The crisp evening air had a particulary relaxing effect on their fatigued muscles, so they just lay there, on their backs, with arms and legs stretched out in attempt to calm the labored breathing, until Malfoy disturbed the peaceful silence surrounding them by rolling over to his side and laughing.

"Mmm?" the witch tried really hard to form a coherent question, but failed miserably. Everything seemed so peaceful; she just wanted to curl up into a small ball and stay like that for the rest of the time, right on the shore of the Dark Lake, far from Voldemort, far from her past, far from the reality.

Abraxas elegantly raised his eyebrow at the girl's antiques, but answered anyway: "I should probably use this as a means of exercise for my team."

Hermione giggled as an image of tens of female students pushing their way closer to the waterfront just so they can adore the naked bodies of Slytherin Quiddich team came to her mind. The 40s were pretty conservative compare to her times, especially so on the school grounds, so she could only assume how flushed faces would be and covered mouths of young girls as they watched their classmates swim and sweat in nothing more than speedos. More giggles escaped, as Hermione realized just how preposterous the thoughts were coming from somebody who was herself in nothing but underwear lying by the lake with an equally nude boy.

"I bet that would cause some commotion" she mused in her fake French accent, entertained.

Malfoy's smiled broadened.

"How did you know the squid is vegetarian?" he asked suddenly, and from his expression it was obvious he was genuinely interested in an answer.

"I read it…" It was only partially a lie. The ex-Gryffindor did read a book or two about the freshwater fauna of the Dark Lake, but it was years after she and Harry dived in and faced the supposed monster predator for the first time just to find out it has no interest in meat what so ever.

The blond nodded skeptically, but satisfied enough with her highly unspecific answer. Hermione smiled when she realized he won't push her for anything more specific even though he could and probably also wanted to. After all, she would be just as curious if somebody claimed to never been to England, yet had a very extended knowledge of region and its inhibitors' business. His ever-present leisure and undemanding approach made her somehow crave the Slytherin's company, even if it wasn't all honest and straight-forward friendship.

Hermione sighed as she tried really hard not to think how much he looks like Draco and how easy it would be to just let the little fact, that he is not the one she married, slip her mind, to simply close her eyes and pretend. She missed Draco more than ever. And Abraxas looked just like him… Hermione cursed her brain for not cooperating as it should and took a deep, dreadful breath.

Abraxas sensed the slight shift in her mood and rolled little closer, unaware how much worse he was making the situation for her.

"Maybe we should go back" he offered, rising to kneel next to Hermione, who was still lying motionlessly on the ground "It's getting late."

But before he had a chance to make the slightest movement, Hermione perked up into a similar position, and somewhat forcefully grabbed his wrist. Her eyes widened at her own rush action. Their close proximity felt so wrong, but she suddenly found herself unable to tear away from the familiar frosty pools of blue, which were bewilderedly staring back at her.

"Don't go" she whispered before taking the one half-step separating them and their lips met in a vicious fight for dominance. She could feel strong arms encompassing her slim frame, and the world around them, whether it was the sounds of splashing water or the lights inside of castle going off, started to fade until there was nothing else than him. Hermione's hands went to pull on the blond locks as she deepened the kiss, while her captor freely roamed her body anywhere he could reach. Hermione drew her breast as close to his chest as their awkward kneeling position allowed, never letting go of his lips until the need for air became unbearable. Her body trembled in anticipation as Malfoy's kisses slowly moved from her lips lower and lower down her exposed neck.

"I suggest we continue this somewhere else…" whispered Abraxas breathlessly into her ear.

And the young witch found herself nodding silently. There was no turning now.

XXXTO BE CONTINUEDXXX


	13. Aftermath

Menteur: Chapter 10: Aftermath and Skipping Classes

October 8, 1943

"No, no. I'm sure. When Letitica asked for him this morning, Black told her that he never returned to the dorm last night." One voice whispered frantically.

"But how about the others? I mean, it's no secret that their group constantly spends nights in the Forbidden Forest…couldn't he'd been with them?" countered another one.

"No way. Riddle was in the Library with London and the…eh, the Rune Translating club, or whatever they call themselves…No, no, I'm sure Malfoy is having an affair and it's not Letitica! Poor girl…" exclaimed the first one with a hint of hidden pleasure from the said girl's potential misfortune.

Hermione's head dropped into her hands. The gossip that Abraxas spent night outside of his own bed spread, in her opinion, way too quickly, especially since Letitica supposedly threw a tantrum his morning, when she didn't find her fiancée in his bed… Stupid! Stupid, scolded Hermione herself. She should have never taken his offer to join him for that evening stroll in the first place, but no. No, she had to go, take him to the Room of Requirement, her secret hideout, and fuck him senseless. And the worst part was that she enjoyed it. She enjoyed his every touch, every kiss caressing her skin ever so softly, his fingers passionately tracing her arched back as she straddled him, his lust-hazed eyes filled with adoration as they…

Hermione let out a deep sigh as her forehead repeatedly met with the hard surface of her desk in a very disgraceful manner. At least nobody seemed to connect Malfoy's night disappearance with her. The last thing she needed was for Riddle, or anyone else, to find out that she slept with one of his treasured followers and 'friends'. What a bummer, right? Hermione suppressed yet another miffed moan and decided it would be probably way much more beneficial if she just forgotten about the whole event and prayed that Malfoy would too.

More and more students slowly floated into the classroom, lazily rubbing their sleepy eyes, nibbling on breakfast left-overs, and/or simply complaining about the mere existence of early Friday classes, like the one they were in. The 7 a.m. Alchemy class was popular only because it was one of the very few courses Slytherins could enjoy all by themselves without an interference of any other houses, not to even mention that it was taught by Horace Slughorn, the head of their house, known to ensure that they alone win the annual House Competition by giving points for pretty-much free. For that reason, almost every member of the Snake's house from 5th year up attended, which, to Hermione's dismay, included her last night's lover.

When she earlier woke up with strong arms possessively encircled around her waist and an erection pressed against her buttocks, she quickly established that a discreet departure before the blond Slytherin wakes up will be the best solution to such awkward situation, and swiftly left her room, taking all the books she needed for the day, without realizing the mere existence of the 7 am all-Slytherin Alchemy.

But it was three minutes till seven and neither Abraxas, nor Riddle showed up. Just as Hermione was starting to worry that maybe Voldemort had already found out and was now torturing Abraxas for information, the blond not-so-gracefully busted into the classroom. Dressed in the same dark green suit from yesterday, his pale mid-back long mane exceptionally untied ad disheveled, flowing loosely into his face and around his broad shoulders in combination with flushed cheeks made it obvious to anyone, who still haven't heard the morning gossip, what exactly was the reason for his night disappearance. The whole class turned to greet him with apprehensive looks, except Cygnus, who feigned seductive whistle, while clapping in appraisal, and Hermione, who wasn't far from sliding underneath the desk just to hide, but settled on simply looking in the opposite direction from the attractive young.

Ignoring everyone, Abraxas went to his usual seat just to be immediately engaged in a round of questions and inquisition from his friends and classmates.

"Alright, so, out with it! Tell us all about the fair maiden, who caught your interest enough that you didn't even bother to show up for breakfast!" cheered on Thaddeus and others around nodded in agreement.

Hermione's head snapped towards the group, trying to determine whether Abraxas will tell or not, but her eyes met Cygnus's insightful gaze staring intently back at her, letting her know he knew. She quickly scanned the crowd for Riddle, but found his chair empty.

Where was he? It was highly atypical for him to be late, and almost unimaginable that he would skip. Dark wizard or not, Tom never missed any of his classes or prefect duties. Hermione frowned, completely forgetting about her Malfoy problem. It must have been something very important for Voldemort to ditch out of one of Slughorn's classes and Hermione wanted to know what it was.

She checked her watch.

7:03

Her inquisitive eyes traveled back to the group of chatterers surrounding the blond heir, meeting Gygnus' once more, he teasingly nodded in Malfoy's direction and wriggled his brows in attempt to get her to join the discussion and hopefully reveal a secret or two. Hermione couldn't stop the irritate grimace from disfiguring her normally calm, fair features. Speedily approaching her 24th year of a life filled mostly with desperate attempts at survival and defeating Voldemort's reanimated self, she had very little in common with these students. They were young, careless, with jovial humor to ease their fears of final exams, never having to face the pains of war's front lines, caring for silly affairs of others like it was the ultimate truth to their whole existence. She was different, though, and so was Tom. She had to find him; better yet, she had to find the identity of his so-called best friend. The time of Myrtle's death was nearing and she had to stop him before then.

With one last look at Abraxas, who was struggling to shake off all the gossip-investigators without giving any vital information about his lover's identity, she tossed her bag over her shoulder and slipped out of classroom before the professor entered; missing a pair silvery orbs following her every move.

To be continued...


	14. Strange Encounters

Menteur: Chapter 11: Strange Encounters

(AN: Ok, so the things in 'these quotation marks' signify the words spoken between Tom and Hermione through this strange new magic bond- aka without speaking out laud, but more about it in the story. Have fun! )

October 8, 1943

Hasty steps echoed through one of the countless dungeon corridors, alerting the young witch to the approaching person just in time for her to slip behind a conveniently placed pillar without making any unnecessary noise. When the steps finally reached a near corner, she promptly casted some additional disillusionment charms to the load of those she used upon exiting Slughorn's classroom. One can never be too safe…

Soon enough a slim figure of a black haired boy, clad in a worn gray uniform and light black overcoat, rounded the said corner and proceeded in the direction of Hermione's hiding spot, but eventually came to a stop in front of a small wooden door leading to the spare storage room some teachers used to get rid of a useless junk without having to deal with Ministry's "proper disposal of magical items" guidelines and requirements. He knocked twice, once and then twice again, performing a well-memorized secret code. The door creaked and Hermione could barely stifle a gasp of surprise when the person behind them came into view. The pigtailed girl with a slightly puzzled expression bearing the colors of blue and bronze could be no other than Myrtle.

"Tom" she uttered a greeting of sorts and quickly stepped out into the empty corridor, pulling the door behind her shut, while Tom leaned leisurely on a wall.

"How are you, Myrtle?" he asked in his typical sugarcoated tone, which made the young Rawenclaw's cheek light with the color of ripe tomatoes.

"G-good" mumbled Myrtle, acting more like a love-sick puppy rather than a proud intelligent member of Rowena's house. "And you?"

Tom's flirtatious smile broadened "Better…now"

Smoothly, like a cat on a hunt, Tom pushed himself off of the wall and neared the anxious witch, who did her best to look anywhere else but him. Using only his index finger, he gently pushed her head up to face his in an affectionate gesture. Their eyes met and if Hermione didn't know any better, she would have thought that the evil brat actually cared for the naive Rawenclaw. Even though she was sure that his manipulative selfish nature practically prohibited any emotional attachment to anything outside of his own persona, certain thoughts of doubt kept nagging at the back of her mind. Maybe Myrtle WAS the friend Dippet mentioned, theorized Hermione, but immediately disregarded the idea as highly improbable and generally ill-composed because were it to be a Rawenclaw, who succeeded in gaining the popular Slytherin's friendship, surely Dippet would have at least acknowledged that, since he himself once was in the same house.

"About the favor…" the melodious voice started again, but Myrtle interrupted, her voice proud and stronger than a second ago: "Oh, I have it!" The girl reached into the pocket of her school skirt and pulled out a small shiny object, which Hermione immediately identified as a pendant of some sorts. It was plain golden octagon with large sapphire-tinted glass part in the middle attached to a simple chain of same material.

"London won't be happy when he finds it missing…" stated the Rawenclaw, but from her tone it sounded more like question. Hermione frowned. Did Myrtle steal it from London's collection of oddities? And more importantly, did she do it for Riddle? Voluntarily? It was hard to believe, but she-as a storage management prefect (well, it's like TA, but lesser…just bear with me, ok?)- was the only person with an access to professor's cabinets, outside of London himself and his T.A. And what exactly was so special about this jewelry that Tom was willing to involve somebody outside of his Knights?

Tom's attention finally left the necklace and focused back on Myrtle: "Oh, don't worry; he won't find out." He assured, quickly pocketing the tiny thing before turning back to the girl in front of him. Standing so close they bodies almost touched, he reached to caress her flushed cheek and whispered: "You did well"

Hermione's jaw dropped, when young Voldemort bent down brushed his lips against pigtailed teenager's. It was simple peck, nothing more, but it was bloody Voldemort himself giving it, which only reinforced Hermione's idea about the trinket's importance. But what was it? What did Riddle desire so much that he was willing to touch a muggle-born in such manner? The ex-Gryffindor was 100% sure she had never even read about that pendant, let alone seen one like this.

She was distracted from her musings, when Tom suddenly turned on his heels and started to walk away.

Hermione scowled, partially because now she had to follow Riddle for sure, and partially because- despite all her hard studies and research- she wasn't able to identify the pedant on sight. What was going on? Unfortunately, she didn't have much time to ponder about possible explanations for the strange exchange she just witnessed, because her obsidian-eyed pray was quickly disappearing out of her view, unknowingly kicking her inquisitive reflex to follow him. She gave the retreating love-sick Rawenclaw one more look before, without ever disenchanting any of the disillusionment charms, sneaking out of the hallway and after Riddle.

He didn't go far though, and Hermione was quite surprised when their steps let them straight into the lady's bathroom on the first floor, a.k.a. the secret entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. She would never expect young Voldemort to be so reckless to visit such place during the broad daylight, but soon realized that morning, in between recesses was just as convenient time as any other, if not more, since most of students didn't even venture into this part of the castle before high noon, oppose to evenings, where almost everybody, who went to Great Hall for dinner, was pretty much forced to pass the place.

Riddle moved stealthily around the confined space, searching for any undesired onlookers, while still-invisible Hermione settled in a small nook near stalls, where she knew to have best view of the snake-eyes faucet.

Tom glanced at his watch, before turning back towards the round sink structure. For a brief moment his pale fingers lingered on the small inconspicuous snake carving on one of the valves, then, with the same hand, he reached into his left pocket and pulled out the obscure pendant. The strange glow of its glass part dimly reflected on the silvery surface of the mirror nearby and Hermione finally got a good look at Riddle's face. It seemed almost surreal as the small rays of light danced across the ashen skin of his high cheekbones, illuminating the vast curiosity and thirst for knowledge hidden deep in the obsidian irises. For a brief moment he looked completely content like a child, who just got a long-desired toy and couldn't quite contain the pure glee and satisfaction, but the tranquility of the moment was gone as quickly as it came. His eyes went back to a mask of utter indifference Hermione was accustomed to, and slightly parted lips closed into a thin line. He fastened the golden necklace around his neck and resolutely clutched both of his hands on the edge of the sink. A couple unrecognizable chants escaped his lips, but nothing happened. His brows furrowed, he tried again, this time lauder so even Hermione could hear the words spoken.

"Alohomora"

So, Riddle doesn't know how to open the chamber yet, deduced Hermione from observing Voldemort's unsuccessful ongoing attempts to use various unlocking charms on the motionless sink. Small droplets of sweat slowly made their way down his temples and the knuckles of his clutched hands went white as his grip of the porcelain tank strengthened.

"Fuck!" he cursed through his teeth, abruptly stepped back, throwing his hands loosely above his head in a distressed manner and Hermione couldn't help but to think that this was the most emotion she ever saw him exhibit.

Breathing heavily, Tom made a couple of steps back and forward in front of the sink, regaining his composure. Then he leaned back into his original position facing the mirror. In its reflection Hermione saw his lips silently part and close as if he was trying to formulate the right spell, but no words came out. There was a short pause and he did it again. With her invisibility charm still on, Hermione took few tentative steps closer to hopefully hear what chant was Voldemort about to cast, but stopped dead in her tracks when a familiar hissing sound reached her ears.

Parseltongue! He's calling Basilisk! Screamed Hermione's mind.

As if Riddle could hear her thoughts, all of a sudden, he spun around to face her and Hermione's breath caught in her throat. His piercing black eyes were staring directly at her. But that's impossible, panicked Hermione, he can't see me! It was impossible for any wizard, no matter how powerful, to see through the invisibility charm unless the caster wished to be seen and Hermione definitely did not want that! She looked down at her hands and torso and it was, indeed, still invisible. She glanced back at Tom and he wasn't casting any counter-charm either. But the mysterious pedant was glowing stronger than ever.

'What is this?' Tom's voice rang clear in her ears, but his mouth never moved. It was as if she could read his thoughts …

So they stood there unmoving, until Riddle took one step forward towards Hermione. His brow furrowed in puzzlement. Slowly, as if he was afraid to do any sudden movements, he reached out with his left hand into an empty space between Hermione and himself, grasping a nonexistent object. Tips of his long pale fingers were mere centimeters from the witches face, but she couldn't bring herself to move. It was like invisible chains were holding her feet firmly in place; she couldn't break free.

'No! Don't come any closer!' yelled Hermione in her mind and suddenly all the air around them crackled with magic and small sparks of gold and silver filled the whole room. The magical flow swirled and they both could feel it.

Tom's eyes widened in shock, but despite the warning, his hand continued its trajectory and Hermione was forced to hold her breath, for were even the smallest gust of air to escaped her lips, Tom would surely feel it and her cover would be blown.

'Who are you?' demanded Riddle, but this time his tone was softer and held no particular emotion of anger or hate, just bewilderment and curiosity. He couldn't see the witch through her invisibility charm, but he could feel her presence and hear her voice.

Right before his hand was able to reach her, Hermione picked up the last of her free will and swiftly took a step back, breaking the strange magical bond between them. Tom's face fell at the sudden lack of the new sensation and his hand went back to hanging motionlessly alongside his body. All came back to focus and Hermione finally allowed herself to let out the breath she was holding. It was obvious now that Tom really did not see her, but it still confused her. How was he able to hear her? One thing was sure: it all started when he put on that cursed pedant.

TBC


	15. Folders

Menteur: Chapter 12: Folders

October 9, 1943

"Who's there?! Show yourself!"

Oh crap, cursed Hermione. Her head snapped up in panic, which caused it to painfully collide with a rock-hard underside of a massive wooden table underneath which she was kneeling. One of her hands automatically went to caress the aching spot, while the other quickly gathered scrolls from the floor, stuffing them into her little bottomless bag.

"By the order of Ministry, stop! This is a restricted section and entering without a permit is a crime!" the voice called again, this time much closer, and suddenly, Hermione realized that, maybe, this wasn't such a great plan after all…

It was only yesterday when she had followed young Voldemort into the ladies' washroom on the first floor of Hogwarts, and had encountered the mysterious medallion, which somehow allowed him to read her thoughts without casting any spell or charm. After the first shock of the mind-invasion wore off, she literally ran out of the place, not even bothering to dispel the invisibility charm, and headed straight to the library to do some research. To her dismay, those five hours hunched over various books and scrolls, proved to be utterly fruitless, since she did not come across even a single mention of objects having such powers. This fact distressed her greatly. Such thing in Tom's possession could be incredibly dangerous, especially to her. So she decided to take desperate measures and came up with a "bulletproof plan", which consisted of visiting the Ministry's secret Register of Possibly Dangerous Objects and 'borrowing' a list of all magical items in London's possessions. There she could simply read what exactly it does and how to handle it. And since they didn't know this trick in this decade yet, she chose to use same technique to infiltrate the Ministry as Harry, Ron and she used in their 6th year. Finding a perfect victim was simple, since The Prophet often published articles on Mynistry's employees and such, and obtaining a Polyjuice Potion wasn't any grand task either, since Slughorn's cabinet, to which, after a couple of well-structured lies and compliments, the professor himself gladly granted her an entry, was full of them. The next day, Saturday, only thing left for Hermione to do, was to wait for Amanda Hogglett, a registrar secretary, to pass through the deserted alley near her house, knock her unconscious, yank few hair, mix it into the PP, and she was off to Ministry. The plan seemed flawless when Hermione, visually Amanda at the time, successfully passed the wizard guarding the entrance, and was acknowledged by a friendly hand gesture and polite smile. All was going so well, until she opened the door of the actual register archives and hundreds of rows of ceiling-high filling cabinets came into the view. Keeping her cool, Hermione simply accioed London's folder, but that also proved to be quite difficult, because more than fifteen different boxes filled with notes and permits flew to her hands. Obviously, Professor London was a collector of oddities at some point… She sighed and carried the boxes to an empty table close by. It was late afternoon on the Saturday, so she did not have to worry about other employees stumbling upon her nosing around people's private records, and started going through the first folder. An hour later, the PP wore off, and that's when the one tiny flaw in her plan came back to kick Hermione's ass. She was nearly done, when two wizards entered the archive, loudly complaining about disadvantages of night shifts and lack of financial bonuses. They didn't see her at first, but then, as she was desperately trying to sneak out, she accidentally knocked over a large pile of books near the table, and therefore alerted the two worker of her presence.

Had she taken one more vial of the Polyjuice Potion with her, she wouldn't be in this mess…She could simply take a sip every once in a while, continue to pretend she is Amanda, and so have every right to be there…

But things are never really as we plan them, are they? Thought bitterly the witch and raised both of her hands and her wand high above her head, so they can see it and hopefully won't try to attack her.

For a brief moment she considered taking her chances and try to run away, but despite late hours, Ministry was still heavily guarded, not even mentioning the anti-apparation wards and many other security spells, which could knock her unconscious before she even raised her wand. And she didn't even want to think of what would happen, were her attempt to escape fail and she got caught… Interrogation under Veritaserum, which they would definitely do to find the reasons behind her interests in private files of a renowned spell-maker, never seemed like an experience she would like to partake in. That left her with only one other possible way out: lying.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" asked the taller one of the ministry workers as he cautiously neared the defenseless witch. It was an older man with many age spots caressing his receding hairline and slightly lumpy physique, but his precise movements spoke of throughout mastery of magic control, a retired auror, perhaps.

"My name is Serena Durand and I was looking for …" What was she looking for? Hermione had to come up with something believable, quickly! "..for …ehh..floo network office?" she stated hopefully, but the man frowned.

"The Register is quite far from the department of Magical Transportation, isn't it, Miss Dur'and?" the shorter one sneered in strong Scottish accent. He wasn't quite as impressive as the taller one, not only due to the lack of few inches in his total height, but also due to their obvious surplus in the belt and neck area. But he was notably younger and possessed a fully functioning wand just as well.

"I got lost." Lied Hermione readily, while employing her best eternally-confused-Fleur impression, but from the stoic faces of her captors it was obvious, that they didn't believe her one bit.

"Well, Miss" The taller, bearded one pulled her up from the floor, took her wand and quickly tied her hands behind her back with invisible magical binds. "You will come with us, because I'm sure the Aurors will be more than interested in how you got past the security."

The other picked up her bag and all three left the room, Hermione securely held between them.

"I swear I wasn't stealing anything. Really? What would I do with a bunch of papers and legal forms?" tried Hermione as they dragged her through the dark hallway towards the magical elevators.

"That doesn't matter. You were in the 'employees only' section of the building at 1.30 in the morning." Replied curtly the older one.

Was it really that late already? Wondered Hermione silently. No wonder, they didn't want to let her slip without a proof of her innocent intentions for being there.

"Is it really necessary?" She twisted her wrists slightly, testing the bonds. The last thing she needed right now was to be faced with a questioning Auror squad. "I did nothing. I was merely-"

But her grumble was cut short by a strong even voice calling after them from somewhere behind them: "What is going on here?"

To be continued…


	16. Good deeds

Menteur: Chapter 13: Good Deeds

October 9, 1943

"I swear I wasn't stealing anything. Really? What would I do with a bunch of papers and legal forms?" tried Hermione as they dragged her through the dark hallway towards the magical elevators.

"That doesn't matter. You were in the 'employees only' section of the building at 1.30 in the morning." Replied curtly the older one.

Was it really that late already? Wondered Hermione silently. No wonder, they didn't want to let her slip without a proof of her innocent intentions for being there.

"Is it really necessary?" She twisted her wrists slightly, testing the bonds. The last thing she needed right now was to be faced with a questioning Auror squad. "I did nothing. I was merely-"

But her grumble was cut short by a strong even voice calling after them from somewhere behind them: "What is going on here?"

Unnoticeable sigh escaped Hermione's lips as she recognized the speaker. Both Aurors stopped and shifted their position to face the intruder properly, but Hermione didn't dare.

"Master Malfoy," spoke up the tubby one, acknowledging young heir with polite incline of his head: "We have caught an intruder! She was spying down in old archives!" He boasted and none-too-gently tugged at Hermione's arm.

"But worry not, young Mister. We have it all under control." The other quickly supplied, and forced young witch to turn around to prove his point. Finally, the contact was inevitable.

Abraxas' eyes widened in shock as the veil of dark curls fell back, revealing her tanned complexion and amber orbs. At that point Hermione decided the best option was to look as casual as possible, a wide strained smile planted on her lips.

"Serena…" commented Malfoy bluntly. His face betrayed no emotion except the right eyebrow, which effortlessly quirked into a questioning position.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and replied: "Pleasure as always, Monsieur Abraxas. I would shake your hand, but I am little tied up at the moment." She motioned to the invisible strings holding her hands behind her back.

"Master Malfoy, do you know this lady?" The shorter Auror looked like his eyes were going to fall out of their sockets, obviously taken aback by the swift turn of events.

"But of course," nodded Malfoy calmly, earning himself three very curious stares.

He opened his mouth to speak and Hermione bit her lip in anticipation. If Abraxas tells the truth, about her being student and all, surely they will not only interrogate her, but also take her straight to Dumbledore and that might be even worse than simply being thrown in prison.

"I am afraid this is all my fault. You see, gentlemen, her name is Serena Durand and she is a guest of my family from France." Hermione's eyes snapped up. Malfoy's face was as stern as ever, and even though he was so obviously speaking to the Aurors, the silvery orbs haven't left the young witch a single time.

"I was planning to take her out to dinner tonight, but got delayed by some urgent dispute in my office, so I have asked her to wait for me by the floo network. She must have simply lost her way."

The older Auror looked back and forward suspiciously from the young heir to the witch in his captivity, but Malfoy put on his best charming smile and added: "I take all responsibility for her."

And to her surprise, the shorter man loosened her binds.

"Alright, Master Malfoy, just make sure it won't happen again," growled the older one, obviously dissatisfied with his colleague's careless decision to let her go so easily, but handed Hermione her confiscated bag back, anyway. The young witch snatched it hastily before they decide to search it through. The documents, she "borrowed", were of very little significance to anyone, yet they could cause lots of trouble, were they to be found in her bag after Malfoy pledged for her innocence.

"Of course, gentlemen. Thank you for returning her safely, and have a good night" smiled Abraxas and waved the men good-bye. The tall one gave her one more suspicious look, which the bushy haired witch readily answered with her own version of the 'Malfoy-selfsatisfied-smirk', before both parties departed in opposite directions.

"I suppose I owe you one, hmm?" snarled Hermione as soon as they were out of earshot. She actually found it quite ironic, that her savior, was ultimately the one person, she desperately tried to stay away from.

"You know, Mademoiselle Durand, simple 'thank you' also wouldn't hurt…" offered the blond dryly and for the first time did Hermione notice just how tired he looked. The usually beautiful sharp eyes were rimmed black, like somebody's who has skipped couple nights of sleep, and the fine pale stands around his hairline have escaped the green ribbon in such manner, as if he had ran his hand through it at least hundred times. Even his posture wasn't the proud, unyielding stance she was used to from school- he leaned heavily on the silver dragon shaped handle of his walking cane, which undoubtly served as a wand sanctuary for many generations of Malfoy men, his shoulders sunk and steps uneven.

Folding his arms in front of his broad chest, he added: "…but if you would rather enlighten me on certain subjects such as why were you snooping around the Archives at 2 in the morning, that is also ok by me."

"Well, I had a free afternoon, so I decided to do some research" As soon as the lie left her mouth, Hermione felt a pang of guilt, closing tightly around her heart. This man before her most likely just saved her life, not to even mention that he'd risked his and his family's reputation. Suddenly, she regretted sneaking out of her bed before sunrise, leaving him without any explanation. She had selfishly used him, because he looked like Draco, because he felt like Draco and most importantly because he was willing….

Pushing the unwanted emotions as far back in her conscious mind as possible, Hermione pulled herself together, and quickly caught up to Abraxas, who already started walking away.

"Do you work at the Ministry?" she tried for her best casual tone, studying him from the corner of her eye.

"Is it that obvious?" asked Malfoy coldly, his face betrayed no emotion.

Hermione made a small half chocking- half huffing noise as she desperately tried to contain her laughter, and not to offend Abraxas more than she already had, but she had to admit, the question was quite beautifully pointless and the situation strangely hilarious. Her hand immediately went to cover her mouth and her eyes drifted shyily to Abraxas in attempt to gauge his reaction. Even though his face stayed emotionless, the corners of his mouth curved up, failing to resist a smile as well.

They made couple more steps, before he spoke again: "My father claims it is time for me to take on some extra responsibility regarding family's estates, so I can, one day, assume my rightful place as Malfoy heir and bring my - "

"-family the honor it deserves. Sanctimonia Vincet Semper." They finished unanimously. Draco never spoke of his family much during their time together, but when he did, he didn't fail to include his best comical Lucius impression, saying this particular phrase, stumping angrily from left to right and fuming. The soft smile induced by the loving memory dissapeared as soon as she noticed stunned expression on Abraxas' face. Malfoy family motto was no secret, yet it surprised him that she would know it so well.

"Is that the reason you've refused the position of Head Boy?" asked Hermione, cleverly directing the conversation away from herself. Malfoy stared at her blankly for few second and then did something unexpected- he rolled his eyes like a little child being told something obvious and grinned brightly- confirming her suspicion.

Hermione couldn't help it but mimic his all-telling smile. "Would you like to join me for a drink, Monsieur Malfoy?

"Are you asking me out on a date?" the mocking tone of his voice was too obvious not to be playful.

Suddenly, she felt like she was 15 again. Butterflies in her stomach sprung up and forced her tongue to stumble over the words and her cheeks to redden beyond imperceptible.

"Umm…. I- I guess I am…" she nodded shyly.

Abraxas' face went back to serious and he sighed: "I apologize, Serena, but my answer is no..."

TO BE CONTINUED


	17. To Make Amends

Menteur: Chapter 14: To Make Amends

October 9, 1943

Hermione couldn't help it but mimic his all-telling smile. "Would you like to join me for a drink, Monsieur Malfoy?

"Are you asking me out on a date?" the mocking tone of his voice was too obvious not to be playful.

Suddenly, she felt like she was 15 again. Butterflies in her stomach sprung up and forced her tongue to stumble over the words and her cheeks to redden beyond imperceptible.

"Umm…. I- I guess I am…" she nodded shyly.

Abraxas' face went back to serious and he sighed: "I apologize, Serena, but my answer is no..."

Hermione's mouth moved soundlessly couple times before her mind was able to formulate a proper reaction, facial and verbal. She didn't expect him to decline. After all, so far he seemed more than interested in spending time with her, but that has obviously changed.

"I-I" she stuttered quietly, eyes cast onto the worn wooden tiles of the floor. What were you thinking, you stupid witch?! scolded herself Hermione. First of all, you just asked soon-to-be-married man out on a date. Secondly, that man happens to be Abraxas Malfoy- grandfather of your bloody husband-, who, thirdly, still might rat your dumb-witted ass to Voldemort or Dumbledore at anytime! Every single thought came smashing into her heart like it was nothing more than a horse shoe on blacksmith's forge. A very un-lucky, counterproductive horse shoe.

Finally, she came back to her senses, pushed her thick dark curls decisively behind her ears, and faced the young Slytherin: " I'm sorry. I meant no offense. I thought...well, I don't really know what I thought, but it doesn't matter. Thank you for your help tonight and...eh... I'll see you later." She mumbled and quickly tried to flee the awfully awkward situation she caused. But before she got chance to gain some distance, Malfoy caught her arm just above the elbow and pulled her back towards him. A soft yelp of surprise escaped her lips as her body almost collided with his and the strong smell of expensive cologne and the soft velvety material of his black overcoat entwined her senses, prohibiting her from pulling away.

"Serena..." whispered Abraxas into her hair, still holding her tight. When she did not react, he used his free hand to lightly push her chin up. Their lips were so close, Hermione could swear he was about to kiss her and only for a second she let herself indulge in the familiar soft gray color of his irises, which subtly merged into shades of baby blue mere millimeters from the dark pupils.

They were beautiful, just like he. The only thing she wanted to do was to melt in time and forget everything about her life, this one and the one back in future. She wanted him to hold her, to play with her hair and tell her about little mundane things about magical world like Draco used to do...

Draco...

An image of her most-likely late husband popped unrequired in her head, making her eyes rapidly flutter open. When did she close them? Her brows furrowed in thought. Could she even ever go back to him, back to her own time and place? She looked back up to find Malfoy smiling at her. Not the rigid fake smirk he used to do his everyday dealings, but very soft amused smile.

"It's late and we are both tired, a date wouldn't be the best idea." He stated smoothly, losening his grip on her waist a bit, but then his smile transformed into a more serious expression: "I was just headed back to Hogwarts. Would you like to join me, Mademoisel Durand?" he said, mimicking her previous invitation.

Hermione took a deep breath and made her decision with a smile of her own:"It would be my pleasure, Monsieur Malfoy."

XXXAN-HOUR-LATERXXXSCHOOL-GROUNDSXXX

"Yeah, Crookshanks was definitely my best friend!" Serena laughed melodically.

"A cat was your best friend? That says a lot about your popularity. " teased Abraxas, his eyes never leaving the pretty witch walking next to him.

After Hermione had agreed to follow him back to school, they headed immediately to the Floo Network on the first floor in hopes to be able to transport straight to Slughorn's office as Abraxas usually did, but to they shared dismay, the Hogwarts Floo was already closed for the night. So they were forced to transport to the public fireplace in Hogsmead and from there walk all the way back to the castle. This unexpected turnout of events wasn't actually all that bad in Abraxas' opinion. Serena was charming, beautiful and her witty remarks could easily match the ones of his own in both hidden meanings and waggery. She told him all about her creepy obsession with grades and books, and he in return shared his stories of his early years in Hogwarts and in Malfoy Manor. That's how they got to topic of pets, after all.

"Oh" Serena feigned being offended, but then broke in laughter: "No, I wasn't very popular. Snap-... I mean one of my professors even called me 'annoying know-it-all' in my 3rd year!" Her cheeks flushed bright shade of red at the embarrassing memory.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, my pants flew off during my first Quiddich match." stated Malfoy. Hermione's eyes widened: "Really?"

"Yes, I was knocked off of my broom, but managed to hold on to it with my hand and as I was hanging there in the middle of the field, my pants slipped off."

"Did...hahaha...did you at least wear some underpants?" asked Serena between giggles.

"Oh, yes and the whole school got to see them." laughed Abraxas nervously. All the people watching that game, including professors and many influential folks from Ministry, got to see the old, worn down piece of red and yellow satin that were his lucky undergarments ever since the age of 6. The humiliation of a Slytherin player wearing "Gryffindor-colored boxers" quickly became the target of many jokes and taunts.

The witch pooched playfully: "Aww, poor Abraxas!" Her tone was heavy with friendly mockery, as she poked his side with her index finger. He went to grab her and return the favor, but she was ready and swiftly jumped from his reach, or at least as far as Hogwart's narrow hallways allowed her to.

"How dare you to poke me- the famous and awesome Abraxas Nicholas Malfoy?" he roared in fake anger and started to chase after her. She just laughed and ran towards the dungeons, trying to get as much as distance between her and young Slytherin as possible without making too much noise, which could attract Prefect night patrol and even though Abraxas surely had permission to be out at this hour, she was vulnerable to any detention or punishment were they to be caught outside of Slytherin dorms.

They almost reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room when he finally caught her. Securing his arms around her tiny waist, she did not even put up a fight as he'd expected, but did almost the exact opposite. She stopped on the spot, twirled around to face his and threw her arms around his neck, cuddling closer.

"Caught you..." he breathed out, bending his head to press his forehead against hers. She smiled brightly in return.

"And what would you like as a reward?" she whispered seductively, obviously enjoying their little play.

"Nothing" answered Abraxas matter-of-factly.

"Nothing?" inquired Hermione, obviously bit surprised.

Abraxas grinned devilishly and brought his head even closer to hers, so their noses were also touching.

"Everything I'd like is already in my arms..." he declared softly, finally realizing just how true that statment was.

A year ago he was completely content with marrying Letitica, starting his full/time employment at the Ministry and eventually taking over the Malfoy estate and producing heir, but now he wasn't so sure if that was the thing to do. Serena was like wild fire, melting and destroying his comfortable icy kingdom and making him question everything he was ever taught to be true. She has made him want to be different, not just a pawn in someone else's game. She has made him feel alive. Serena Durand, the mysterious foreigner with brilliant mind and questionable background, made him fall in love.

There was no denying it. Finally, he bend down to capture her lips in a kiss. She responded immediately, pulling him even closer and gently tangling her tiny hands in his pale tresses.

"Stay with me." he pleaded breathlessly.

"Tonight?" she asked between small kisses.

"Every night." answered Abraxas firmly and Hermione laughed brightly: "You would get tired of me so quickly!"

"Hmm" he murmured and kissed the top of her head: "We shall see..."

Hermione simply smiled and they both moved to enter the common room.

Inside wasn't as deserted as they'd expected. The black marble fireplace was still lit and five people were spread out on couches, forming a small circle. On the dark rug closes to the fire sat Cygnus dressed in blue PJs and sipping from a bottle of clear liquid- undoubtedly a very expensive vodka. Not far from him in a large chair sat Taddeus with Dorea. She was comfortably curled up in his lab, slowly dosing off. Opposite of them lay Marius, Abraxas' Quiddich teammate and a distant cousin of Black siblings. His hands were flying up and down in the air as he was reenacting some important part of the story currently being told.

"Oi, Malfoy, Serena" called out Septimus, who sat on the armrest of the last chair facing out, and therefore had the best view of the entrance and potential newcomers.

"Come join us. Marius was just telling us this really cool prank he and Crabbles played on some Hufflepuffs!"

Hermione gave Abraxas a really strained look, but he smiled at her reassuringly and let her to the empty chair. Septimus swiftly slit off to give them some space to sit and walked to the coffe table in the middle, grabbing some empty glasses and filling them with honey colored firewhisky, he then whispered some spell and the smooth glass covered itself in tiny ice crystals instantly cooling the drinks. Abraxas sprawled lazily into the chair, but Hermione found no other place to sit so she just stood there idly, deciding if she should just sit on the floor or not.

"Hey, Durand, you can sit here." offered Marius while sitting up straight and moving to the left side of the couch. Hermione smiled nervously and was about to walk over, when Abraxas' hand stopped her and pulled her down to sit on his lap just like the engaged couple opposite them. She could feel her face reddening, but the young Slytherin wrapped a protective arm around her mid section and drew her further onto his lab till her back was resting against his broad chest. Then he took her hand in his and tenderly kissed the tips of her fingers, which seemed to relax the angsty witch at least a little bit.

Taddeus laughed at their love-sick exchange, incidentally waking Dorea, who had no idea what had occurred while she took her nap, up. Her eyes blinked twice, before she reached into a small purse lying on the nearby nightstand and pulled out thin elegant glasses. Once the glasses were secured in their place on her nose, she sheepishly looked around, flying through her friends until her gaze steadied on Abraxas and Hermione.

"I haven't seen you here before..." she stated empathetically, but her sharp eyes bored into foreign girl with accusation and judgement.

Hermione shifted in Abraxs' lap and tried her best to sound casual, when she answered: "Yeah...'Ello, I'm Serena Dur-"

But Dorea interrupted: "I know who you are!" and Hermione's mouth instantly fell shut.

"That's right" added Septimus with laughter and handed each lover one glass of chilled alcohol :"You are something of a star around this school. I mean, it's not everyday that someone beats teacher's pet Riddle in every single class." He snorted at his own joke and Hermione could already tell that young Gryffindor didn't hold Voldemort too dear. Cygnus, who was always a big Knight of Walrpus loyalist, shot him a dirty glare, but did not comment.

"That's right. You're still jealous Slytherin has 4 excellent students while Gryffindor has only three!" laughed Marius.

"Four? Oh, please, do enlighten me, who are they!" Septimus rolled his eyes.

"There's Riddle and Serena- we have already established that. Who are the other two?" asked Dorea, suddenly also interested in the conversation.

"Don't forget that Malfoy here is still our valedictorian, that means his grades are better than both Serena's or Riddle's" declared Marius victoriously, to which Abraxas tried to object that the term valedictorian regarded only the graduating class, therefore Riddle's expediency wasn't applicable, but Septimus, still heated up by the argument, didn't let him.

"And the last one?" Septimus' thick ginger eyebrows quirked up.

Marius' smirk widened: "Well, me, of course!"

The whole group whined in unison over his stupid attempt at joke, completely forgetting about the issue of Abraxas and his new lover...

XXXTBCXXX

Oh, what a sappy romantic chapter, I know! But two important things happened for Hermione, she finally gave in to her "affair" with Abraxas, and she met some new (possibly) friends :) and Tom is definitely gonna appear in next chapter, because paradise cannot last too long, can it? :) Review appreciated!


	18. Of Sweet Dreams and Magic

Menteur: Chapter 15: Of Sweet Dreams and Magic

November 9th, 1943

Soft spoken words, almost a whisper, reached her ears in melodious tones. Each syllable pronounced with extreme precision, grouped with others into an unknown rhythm of ancient chants.

But the sweet sound wasn’t what brought her mind to awareness. It was the intoxicating surge of magic all around her, tickling the tips of her fingers, pulling on her hair and playing with her mind. Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she felt this good. The magic streams flowed freely through her body, mingled with her own and slowly started to settle deep in her bones, causing her heart to drown in the euphoric feeling. It made her feel powerful and impervious.

Without opening her eyes, she concentrated on the silky music of the chant. She couldn’t understand the meaning, nor did she knew the language spoken; it sounded foreign and ancient… Latin, perhaps. 

Where is it coming from?, wondered Hermione. She forced her mind to concentrate and for the first time she realized her own lips moving in synchrony with the spell. She could hear her own voice spelling out the words of the unfamiliar tongue with such ease it seemed almost natural, like she has always known it. There was another, deeper, voice, simultaneously reciting the hymn, matching her every word for one of its own. The young witch freed her body from the overwhelming hold the alien magic had on it and commanded her eyes open.

In darkness in front of her sat Tom Riddle. His posture perfectly mirrored hers; his long legs were folded neatly underneath him, both of his arms stretched forward, slender fingers of his hands lightly touching a piece of parchment lying on the ground between them. Without interrupting the chanting, which was uncontrollably leaving her mouth, Hermione glanced at the writing on the parchment and immediately recognized old hieroglyphics. What was this? Did she know the language of pharaohs?

Her gaze went back to young Riddle. His head was slightly tilted forward, causing his wavy hair to fall leisurely over his closed eyes. His pale lips barely moved as he pronounced the words. His face was calm. Only thing that did not match his completely serene expression were his thick eyebrows, which were furrowed in concentration.

As if he could feel her gaze, his dark eyelashes fluttered open and the cold obsidian orbs met her amber ones. Neither of them stopped chanting, but Riddle’s lips formed a small tentative smile. If she’d had any control over her body, Hermione was sure her breath would hitch in her throat. The dominant magic flow held her in place though, commanding her lips to move and her lungs to inhale and exhale regularly. Following Hermione’s example, Riddle’s eyes traveled to the yellowing parchment and Hermione finally found the strength to look around. Wherever they were, it was pitch black except the pale gold glow emitted by the magical paper. She couldn’t see farther than few feet- only darkness surrounded them.

Then suddenly the soft rhythm died on her lips and a vigorous gust of magic left the glowing parchment. It was invisible, but she could feel it crackling the air around them, swirling and expanding. It was incredible; the ancient object completely released its power, which was now lingering in the air. Such spells were nearly impossible to perform, but THEY did it! It would be so easy to reach out and let her body absorb it, blend it with her own, control it.. the temptation became almost unbearable. Their eyes met again, and both Hermione and Tom knew what to do. There was only one way to acquire the power- they both performed the ancient spell, they both must accept this power together. Tom’s arm readily sneaked forward, palm opened, a silent proposal of cooperation. 

Power corrupts, Hermione remembered. But right now there was nothing she desired more than to be completely and utterly corrupted. She could feel the potential, all the knowledge hidden in the forbidden spell and she wanted it all. Decisively she reached for Riddle’s awaiting hand.  
Something flickered in her peripheral vision. 

She stopped in her movement and looked around. All around them, stood people and not just any people, all of them were Hermione’s friends and family. Her eyes traveled over her lost parents, the Weasleys, Luna, Lupin and Sirius, professor Snape and many others, until they settled on three figures standing right behind young Voldemort. On the right stood Ron, looking at her confused and slightly angered, on the other side stood Harry with an awkward smile and tussled hair, watching her expectantly, and in the middle stood the love of her life and her late husband, Draco Malfoy. His expression almost ripped her heart out of her chest. He simply smirked at her conspiratorially like he knew exactly what was going through her head and shook his head. Was she betraying them? Suddenly all the memories of her previous life became fuzzy and the people around them started to disappear until there was only Draco left. What does this mean, thought Hermione confusedly, her mind blank.

“I can give you everything you want, Hermione…” quiet whisper escaped Riddle’s lips. His tone was even and measured, but his dark eyes were wide in excitement. He wanted this just as much as she did. Finally letting her desire to take over, she grabbed Riddle’s hand and entwined their fingers. As soon as their fingers touched she heard an unearthly shriek and Draco’s lifeless body collapsed to the ground, blood and dirt smeared over his face, as his head soundlessly hit the ground.

“Noooo!” screamed Hermione and tried to free her hand, but it was too late. The magical connection was established…

With a loud gasp Hermione abruptly sat up in her bed. Drops of sweat ran down her spines and she struggled to catch her breath. No, I’m sorry! I love you! Draco, please, forgive me!, her mind screamed relentlessly. Slowly her vision cleared and she realized she was indeed in her bed in the Room of Requirement. The old clock on the wall told her that it was barely half past 11 p.m. 

It was a dream, just a dream…repeated the witch in her head again and again, wiping the salty tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of her PJs. She could still feel the magic..  
She cautiously looked around, only to find the room completely deserted except Abraxas, who was soundly sleeping on the other side of the bed. His body was almost fully submerged in heavy blankets save for his pale blond mane and one arm which was curled underneath his head temporarily replacing a missing pillow. Draco’s motionless body lying on the dirty ground, covered in blood and dark soil, came to her mind and she was unable to stop more tears from spilling. She betrayed him, she betrayed Harry and all the good wizards and witches of the Order. She exchanged them for power. She helped Voldemort, for Merlin’s sake! What kind of a person was she? She panicked.

Draco! A muffled cry resonated throughout the room and Abraxas stirred in his sleep. 

How could she do this? 

Air. She needed air. She needed to leave. NOW!

As quietly as she could she got up, dressed herself and walked into the corridor.

XXXXin-slytherin-dormitoryXXX

Tom Riddle woke up with a gasp. The dreams of power and magical object weren’t unusual for him, but this particular episode felt different, nearly too real.

In his dream, he saw Serena. At least, he thought it was Serena. The girl he dreamed of look almost exactly like Serena, except for few details. Most notable of them being that instead of soft jet black locks he was used to, her hair was a large mass of robust hazelnut-colored curls. But that couldn’t interest him less. What he found interesting was the name; he distinctly remembered calling her Hermione. But why? He couldn’t think of ever encountering anyone of that name. He has only read it in muggle books of myths, referring to the goddess of knowledge. Was it possible that his brain simply supplied the name because of Serena’s obvious intelligence? Another curious difference between Serena and “Hermione” from his dream, was that the latter had a word Mudblood carved into the flesh her right forearm. Serena, on the other hand, was a pure-blood and definitely did not have anything on her forearms…or…or did she? Tom actually couldn’t not remember a single time she wore any clothing without long sleeves. Didn’t she wear her wand holder on her right arm? Could she be muggle-born? When he tried to look up Durand on the list of wizarding families, the name itself popped-up more than dozen of times- obviously being one of the most common names in France. Also, she was sorted to Slytherin and no non-pureblood was ever sorted into Slytherin- well, except for himself, but he was Salazar’s heir. Could she have cheated the Sorting Hat? And was his dream even based on reality? 

Suddenly enticed with this riddle, Tom tried to recall everything from the dream. He could almost feel the intoxicating pull strengthen as their chanting went on. He had no doubts that part of the magic he felt was hers. He could feel it rushing through his veins, he could feel her. The ancient spell they performed was powerful, more than anything he has ever encountered in his life and he knew he would not be able to do it on his own. Could they do it in reality?

With head filled with many unanswered questions and probably unable to go back to sleep, Riddle decided it wouldn’t hurt to visit the library, maybe study the hieroglyphics. After all, it was only 11:35 pm.


	19. Just Between You And Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 19 REWRITTEN!! story change

As Tom was about to sneak through the large mahogany entrance to the library, soft sounds of nearing steps caught his attention. Faster than lightning, he hid in the nearby alcove, crouching as far in the corner as possible, so the passerby won't be able to spot him. The sound of shoes clicking on the hard stone floor gained in intensity until a petite figure appeared at the farthest corner of the corridor. Tom instantly recognized the wild locks of the witch from his dream. She was walking at fast pace, dressed in winter boots and a long coat, which was way too warm for the indoors. Oblivious to his hidden form, Serena rushed pass and swiftly turned into an adjacent hallway. Without much thought, Tom instantly took the opportunity to find out more about the mysterious housemate, casted a basic disillusionment charm and headed after her.

When they finally reached the ground level, Hermione abruptly stopped in front of the statue of Gunhilda Gorsemoor. Cautiously, she looked around and then whispered something Tom couldn't quite hear. The statue shivered and, after a while, slid aside, exposing a dark tunnel. Tom frowned. Over the years, many students whispered of secret underground passages connecting Hogwarts with the outside world, but nobody was ever able to find them. As he remembered, It took him almost three months of careful observations and wall tracing before he was able to pin-point the exact location of the secret passage. How was it possible that somebody who arrived mere two months ago already figured out one of the best guarded secrets in the school? Despite his growing suspicion of the foreign girl, he followed her through the tunnel into the darkness.

They walked for almost 20 minutes, Tom quietly sulking behind, tripping almost every third step, before Serena finally extinguished the light coming from her wand and the tunnel descended into complete darkness. Somewhere in front of him, Tom heard faint rattling noise and suddenly sharp golden glow flooded the narrow space of the tunnel. Shading his eyes from the blinding light, he took a couple of steps forward. The light was coming from a door at the end of the tunnel, that much he could make out. Still hidden behind the veil of his disillusionment charm, young Slytherin patiently waited for the witch to disappear through the entrance and then slowly followed.

There was no mistaking in where has the passage led them- Tom immediately recognized the dark, creaky, cherry-wood flooring of the most famous wizarding pub in Hogsmeade, Hog's Head. Loud music, only occasionally overpowered by outbursts of laughter, reached his ears, and he knew the place was crowded. Hastily, he pulled off his Slytherin tie and messily rolled up sleeves of his white shirt, trying to hide the fact that he was merely a student. Still unsatisfied with his disguise, he casted another disillusionment charm and finally walked down the empty hallway towards the sounds of merriment.

The main room with a bar and a small dance parquet was indeed full of people. Heavy cigarette smoke made it almost impossible to see clearly, providing a temporary hideout for many drunk witches and wizards, whose heads were hanging low, as if they were trying to avoid any possible observers. Confident with his notice-me-not charm, Riddle's eyes bluntly searched the bar for the French witch. To his utter surprise, he found her sitting on one of the bar stools, staring right back at him with furrowed brows and blank expression. For a second, the young Slytherin found himself unable to move. They stared at each other unblinkingly until Serena grabbed the shot of a clear liquid the bartender sat on the counter in front of her, and in one swing, drank it. Her gloved hand reached into her coat and pulled out a box of cheap muggle cigarettes. Grasping on one of them between her lips, she lit it carefully. Only then did he finally made a move to join her.

By the time he reached her, another shot was send her way by the smiling bartender, and like before she gulped it down with ease.

"Smoking and consumption of alcoholic beverages by students is for the period of academic year strictly prohibited regardless of their age and/or parental permission." He quoted the table of regulations, and sat down right next to the witch.

"Sod off, Riddle" retorted Serena, downing another shot and taking another drag of off her cigarette.

Tom watched her with silent amusement. Her wild black locks were pulled back in a messy bun except for few ringlets, which curled around her tanned face, complimenting her thick eyelashes and deep red lips. Her normally fiery caramel orbs, were now glossed over and soft, almost unfocused.

"No." he replied simply, cheekily grabbing the box of cigarettes from the table and inspecting it.

"Suit yourself." Growled Serena, spinning her body so that she did not have to face him. Tom's amused obsidian eyes scanned older witch's profile. Somehow her hair were curlier and bushier than he has ever seen them, escaping the hairband and sticking out in all directions. At that moment, she looked just like the girl from his dream.

'Her-mio-ne', the name popped up in his head.

As if she could hear it, Serena's head snapped up, her caramel orbs boring into his, and he could swear he saw recognition flicker in them. The world around them seemed to suddenly vanished into nothing.

Who is she?, wondered Tom silently.

Serena's eyes suddenly widened in fear and the witch swiftly hopped off of her bar stool, ready to flee. Unable to hide his interest anymore, Tom raised his arm in attempt to snatch her before she can run away, but the witch agilely dodged his fingers and took off towards the front door. Riddle did not waste any time and inconspicuously chased after her through the crowd of dancers.

Serena rushed into the dimly lit street, Riddle on her heels. At first, their chase was barely faster than walking, but farther they got from Hogshead the faster they progressed, until at the edge of the town, they finally broke into full sprint. Tom followed the French down the narrow forest path back towards the Hogwarts. Despite her initial head start, he was soon able to catch up with her. Just as he was about to grab the back of her coat, the witch turned and swiftly casted a binding spell to his ankles, causing him to trip and crash onto the mossy forest floor. He cursed through his teeth, as her fast retreating back disappeared behind near trees, and pulled out his wand. A short moment later, he finally managed to remove the jinx from his feet, but Serena was already at the foot of the hill, nearing the Hogwarts' magical shield…but she wasn't there yet. A victorious smirk appeared on Riddle's face as he smoothly apparated right between the escaping witch and the anti-apparating shield.

Noticing him blocking her escape route, Serena stopped abruptly and raise her wand in Tom's general direction. Her hands shook and she had struggle to catch her breath. For the longest time none of them moved, both waiting for the other one to make the first move. Finally Tom spoke: "How about we end this chasing game and have little chat, Miss Durand?"

She snorted at his fake smile and seemingly polite offer.

"Stupefy!" both yelled at the same time and the red beams clashed viciously in between them.

"Reducto!" yelled Tom again. The curse hit Serena square in the stomach, throwing her off of the path down the rocky slope. Luckily for the witch, her body landed in a large patch of Bindweed as oppose to sharp rocks which covered most of the hillside. Before she had a chance to clumsily scramble to her knees, Tom had hoped down the slope and was now towering over her, his wand readily resting midair. The bushy haired girl looked frantically around for her own wand, which had flew out of her hand once the spell hit her. Realizing it was a lost cause, she looked up at him from her sitting positions.

"Maybe now you will be willing to cooperate…" grinned Tom maniacally, fully enjoying the vulnerable position the girl was in.

"Never" gritted Hermione through her teeth and with all her might kicked the wobbly rock Tom was standing on. Thrown off balance, Tom fell backwards onto the pile of gravel, hitting his left temple on one of the larger stones. His free hand immediately went to his throbbing head, checking the injury. Upon brief inspection, he deduced that it was nothing but a small bleeding cut which would fully heal in few weeks. Annoyed, Tom raised his other hand to magically stop the pain, but found that the wand in his hand had snapped in half as a result of his harsh landing. For the second time that night Tom allowed few selected cusswords to escape his mouth.

Serena smirked, hopped back to her feet and quickly started jogging towards Hogwarts' main gate, probably assuming he won't follow her without a want, but she was wrong. Furious, young Voldemort scrambled to his feet and dashed after her. By the time she slipped through the gate, he was only few steps behind, looking angrier than ever. Sharply turning to the left, she willed her hurting feet to move faster, sprinting up the old masonry staircase. Riddle quickly realized that her plan was to run to the Room of Requirement and hoping the door will disappear before he has time to get in. After all, without their wands there was not much else she could do. He had to catch her before they reached the third floor.

Fortunately for him, while turning one of the many corners, her wet shoes slipped on the tiled floor and she had to do everything she could not to fall. Riddle of course used this opportunity to finally catch up to her and to grab one of her ankles. Their bodies hit the floor and he used his strength leverage to pull her closer to him. Pinning her down with his left forearm, he expertly dodged most of her desperate kicks and punches. His other hand finally managed to snatch her swinging fist and immobilize it underneath one of his shins. With most of her limbs out of the game, Tom finally trapped her other wrist in his magic-enforced grip. Gasping in pain, Serena Bbit down on her bottom lip to stop herself from screaming and alerting professors of their presence, as she continued to struggle against his powerful grip… but in the end she found herself trapped, leaning against one of the stone walls.

The tall Slytherin swiftly climbed on top of her, still holding both of her arms in check. Their faces were mere inches apart and he could feel their erratic breaths mingling.

'There is no escaping now..' Tom never spoke those words out loud, but still they resonated between them loud and clear. The familiar magical flow crackled all around, making both youngsters stop dead in their tracks. Serena stopped tossing her torso from side to side and looked at him. If the incredulous look in her frightened features was anything to go by, she felt it too. It was like a surge of energy flowing from their joined hand, swirling around their bodies and pooling somewhere in between. Suddenly Riddle's eyes narrowed, he let go of her left arm and used that free hand to get a good grip on her neck.

"What spell is this?!" he barked, squeezing her throat in attempt to choke her.

The witch desperately grasped for air. The strange magic was now violently lashing around and clashing into the stone walls around them.

"I.." she rasped: "I don't know.." but Riddle's grip did not loosen.

'Please, let me go!' her voice begged in his mind, seemingly fully aware that he can hear her.

"Why should I?" he barked again, completely ignoring the magic, which pulsed more vigorously with every breath they took. He bent his head even closer to her, staring directly in her eyes. She didn't want to tell him? Fine, he had ways to get the information he wanted.

With his hand firmly holding her head in place, he lowered his head even closer to hers, until their noses almost touchedstaring into the amber wells of her eyes.

"Legilim-"

"Legilimens!" With the last breath, Serena spat out the incantation, and suddenly Tom found himself being tossed down a very familiar memory line…

TBC


	20. What You Didn't Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ch20

With his hand firmly holding her head in place, he lowered his head even closer to hers, until their noses almost touched staring into the amber wells of her eyes.

"Legilim-"

"Legilimens!" With the last breath, Serena spat out the incantation, and suddenly Tom found himself being tossed down a very familiar memory line…

Hermione's vision went temporarily black, as the spell slowly pulled her deep into Tom Riddle's mind. Pictures, memories twisted by mind of their owner, animatedly zoomed by her in a blur of colors, voices and unexpressed feelings. She saw faces, some familiar and some she have never seen. They all spoke, intently telling their stories, sharing secrets without batting an eye like if under imperius spell. Some spoke loudly, their voices resonating in her ears, while the quieter were completely swallowed by the unharmonious hum of thousand words being spoken at once. She saw Tom's first memory of herself on the day Slughorn chose her to be his dueling partner, his acceptance to be Prefect and trip to Hogsmeade. She saw a sorting ceremony filled with Slytherins' cheers and a smiling face of young Albus Dumbledore as he explained the principles of transfiguration to a class of 1st years.

The deeper into Riddle's mind she went, the slower everything seemed to pass. All the memories dragged around her in slow motion, their abstract inhabitants barely moving, muffled and hazed over with thick mist. Finally, everything came to halt and Hermione found herself in an unfamiliar room created by Voldemort's young mind. Quietly, she watched children of various ages to excitedly run around, giggling and chattering, until a big wooden door swung open and two middle aged women walked in. Children immediately ceased their games and swiftly lined up in the middle of the room. One of the women, a short, plump lady with graying hair and dark purple apron, smiled approvingly at the row of children and gently ushered the other woman forward.

"Here they are, Mrs…Uh…I apologize, what did you say your name was?"

The other woman smiled, obviously unoffended by the older care-taker's forgetfulness and loosely waved her hand.

"Ainsworth" she answered, eyes scanning from child to child.

Ainsworth? Pondered Hermione silently. She loosely remembered woman of that name living in the house next to her parents' house. Old Mrs. Ainsworth was a reclusive, but otherwise pleasant widow living in a small house at the edge of the neighborhood. As a small child Hermione was send over on occasions to feed the cat when Mrs. Ainsworth was away. But the woman in Tom's memory couldn't be the same person as even with the time shift, she was far too young.

"Let me see them!" Mrs. Ainsworth laughed.

Her voice was soft, unhindered and strangely familiar. Frowning, Hermione took few steps closer to get better look. The woman, in her mid-thirties, was of average height and surprisingly average looks. Her dark blond hair was styled in traditional way of 1940s and outside of few pale freckles at the tip of her nose, there was really nothing to talk about.

"Right, right!" exclaimed the older woman, clapping her hands together and signaling towards the children. "So, Mrs. Ainsworth, are you looking for a boy or girl? Over here" she pointed to a little blond girl on the end of the line: "is Veronica. She is just finished her 2nd year with all As. Oh, yes, very smart girl. She in bound to make you very proud! And other there, that is Lucy-"

"Ah, very good." Smiled Mrs. Ainsworth, patiently listening to old care-taker's blabber introducing each child like they were nothing but commodities. At the end of the line, the care-taker turned questioningly towards the lady.

"What about him?" asked Mrs. Ainsworth suddenly, pointing somewhere behind Hermione. Everyone present turned towards a door at furthers corner of the room. In a small crack between the door frame and the door, a tiny set of obsidian eyes watched attentively all that was happening.

"Oh, that is little Tom, but I don't think-" the care-taker was about to argue, but the younger was already walking towards the door. Hermione slowly followed. Mrs. Ainsworth stopped by the door, carefully leveling her smiling face with the hidden boy.

"Hello, there, Tom, is it?" she said with a friendly tone. Tom, still mostly hidden behind the door, nodded.

"Ah, and how old are you, Tom?" Mrs. Ainsworth asked, obviously determined to befriend small boy. Little Riddle paused for a minute, but after while raised 3 fingers as high as he could, making sure the unfamiliar woman could see.

Mrs. Ainsworth laughed, her full voice resonating through the room: "Three? Oh, my! Almost a man, hmm!"

"Yes, madam…"peeped the boy insecurely from behind the door. Mrs. Ainsworth laughed again and carefully pushed the door open, revealing a petite boy dressed in over-sized pants and worn gray shirt. His hair was thick, black as a coal and unkempt. There were pink streaks running from his red-rimmed eyes down over his plum cheeks; his face spoke of tears and sadness.

Mrs. Ainsworth sighed compassionately: "Tom, were you crying?" Upon hearing the question, Tom immediately rubbed the remaining wetness off of his face.

"Of course not, madam" he defended.

"Ah" the women nodded understandingly: "I did not think so. Big boys don't cry after all!" She declared like it was as undeniable fact, and send Tom one of the loveliest smiles Hermione has ever seen.

"At least, I haven't seen any yet." continued Mrs. Ainsworth, winking lightly at Tom.

Then Hermione heard something she thought she would never hear: Tom giggled, happily, like nothing else in the world mattered. His dark eyes shone with admiration for the woman. Mrs. Ainsworth smiled back and waived her hand towards the care-taker.

"Would you like to come home with me, Tom?"

Before Hermione could see more, strong surge of magic pushed her out of the memory and into the darkness of present time.

(end of the memory)

"Stop!" growled Riddle, blindly grabbing onto stray strands of his hair, obviously fighting the pain that came with having your mind probed by Legilimency spell. Hermione coughed, finally having enough oxygen in her lungs. All the magic that was around them before was gone and replaced by crisp night air.

Riddle finally stopped squeezing his eyes shut and raised his head to look at her, his eyes narrowed dangerously, but whether from anger or suspicion, Hermione couldn't tell. There was a long pause when neither of them moved, both too engaged in silent staring contest. Suddenly Tom launched forward and Hermione was sure he is about to choke her again, but instead he used all his power to grab her right arm. Viciously, in one swift move, he yanked her wand holster off.

Before she had even time to react Voldemort's fingers traced the profanity carved into the flesh o her forearm.

He knows.

Hermione did not dare to move. This was it, she thought bitterly. Surely, he will kill her now that he knows or he will tell everyone and her disguise will be ruined…

But when he looked back up at her face, there was only curiosity in his eyes.

"Hermione…" he whispered her name, more to himself than her and Hermione's breath caught in her throat.

He knows!

How?

"What is going on here?!" voice shrieked from the end of the dark corridor and two lights appeared not far from the duo.

Both promptly scrambled to their feet, despite the pain from previous fight. As fast as her still dizzy mind allowed her, Hermione brushed up her hair and tighten her dark jacket around her.

"Mr. Riddle? Ms. Durand?" the high-pitched voice belonged to Professor Darkwater, a short feisty herbology expert and a current head of Hufflepuff house, who did not seem too happy to see them. Next to her stood the Minerva McGonagall, the head girl, face showing only mild surprise.

"Please, explain, what are you two doing out of your dormitories at this hour?" the woman demanded sternly, surprisingly oblivious to their disarrayed looks.

Hermione's eyes flickered to Tom, but he was as stoic as her.

"Mr. Riddle?" the professor prompted impatiently when neither responded.

"My apologies, Professor" Riddle smiled pleasantly like nothing happened. "I was doing my perfect rounds, when I happened to come across Ms. Durand. It sees that she has fallen asleep in the library and then had problems finding her way around the castle. I was just about to show her to the common room."

"Ah, I see…"pondered the professor: "Gentleman as always."

"Mr Riddle, why don't you continue your rounds and we will let Minerva show Ms Durand the way."

"Of course" agreed Riddle almost immediately. Hermione, still mildly dizzy, slowly nodded. Trying her best to appear normal. Those few shots of firewhisky and subsequent run, was taking its toll and she was suddenly feeling exhausted.

Without another word, she followed Minerva down the hall, doing her best not to limp. The faster she got away from Riddle, the better.

Tom watched the French with until she disappeared behind the corner and then turned back to professor Darkwater.

"If that is all, madam, I will return to my duties" he offered politely. Darkwater just waved her hand and departed.

Tom turned to leave, when he spotted a small piece of paper of the floor where Hermione stood just seconds ago. It must have fallen out of her pocket. Cautiously he picked it up and slit into his pocket.

TBC


	21. Wars Without Frontiers

November 20th, 1943

Hermione sat limply at her chair in the library, her book laying on the table untouched. It was almost noon, but she couldn't bring herself to start reading. She could swear that the magical calendar, hanging just opposite of her table, was mocking her.

November 20th, the bright parchment read.

In her time, this day was marked in black to mourn the victims of the 1st wizarding war.

Hermione sucked in a deep breath, trying to push all the unpleasant thoughts out of her head.

It was meant to happen.

It has happened.

Defeated, her head dropped into her propped up palms.

November 20th, 1943 was in her time known as the day the great Albus Dumbledore defeated one of Darkest Wizards of all times, Gellert Grindelwald, in the battle of Hogsmeade. Many considered this day to be a glorious victory of light over darkness, but every victory comes with a price and this one was no exception. Grindelwald, desperate to lure Dumbledore out and settle the score, attacked where he knew it would hurt the most. Hogsmeade was attacked unexpectedly and very few were prepared to deal with advanced dark spell that were thrown at them by trained wizards of Gellerd's army. Even though Grindelwald wasn't a wanton murderer, many young students got caught in ruthless crossfire and lost their lives.

They did not deserve to die, Hermione thought bitterly.

She looked up at the old grandfather's clock nearby.

12:01

In less than an hour, Grindelwald and his followers will apparate into the main street and there will be no turning back. Hermione sighed.

She could change their fates. She could save them all.

But was few lives worth risking losing her disguise? How would she explain that she knew what is going to happen?

Another sigh escaped her lips.

An image of Ron came to her mind. Before the war broke out and before they went to hiding, he once told her that every innocent life is worth saving, because one never knows who will be the next one to join the Order. Despite her best efforts, she wasn't able save any lives. After all, she could barely keep herself alive. It was a selfish decision to stay hidden, she knew, but she was so scared then. She was scared to take a single step just so she doesn't mess anything up. Ron, on the other hand, was nothing like that. He would have blindly jump in front of a deadly curse if it meant helping others. Even though they broke up she still loved and admired him. She was a coward and he was a hero. She was alive and he was dead. Did his death meant anything? She would give anything to save him. To save Harry. To save Draco…

With that thought the young witch came to her decision.

Every life she can save is worth it!

Jumping up abruptly, Hermione grabbed her bag and ran out the door.

"Professor Dumbledore! Professor!" she banged her fist against the hard wood door of the old man's private chambers. After few seconds of absolute silence from the other side, she tried again.

"Professor, please! It's an emergency!" she cried desperately.

"I believe Professor Dumbledore is away on a business trip" worried voice of Minerva McGonagall sounded behind her.

"What? Where did he go?" Hermione spun on her heels to fully face the Head Girl, distress obvious in her tone.

"Uhm…"fumbled Minerva nervously, tugging a stray strand of her ashy hair behind her ear.

"Do you know where he is?" demanded Hermione again, trying to keep anger and frustration out of her voice.

The other girl sighed: "I think- I think he went to the Ministry of Magic…"

It was obvious from her tone that she was internally unhappy with sharing this information, but Hermione couldn't care less. The only thing she could think of was that Hogsmeade was about to be attacked and Dumbledore was nowhere to be found.

She was about to cry out something very rude, when a crazy idea striked her mind.

"Do you have some paper?" she asked Minerva, who immediately pulled out a spare roll of parchment from her school bag and handed it to her.

Hermione quickly scraped down the shortest possible explanation of the current predicament, which simply read: 'He is going to attack Hogsmeade. Hurry!', and returned the parchment to dumbfounded Head Girl.

"Take this to the owlery and send it to Dumbledore as fast as you can!" Hermione instructed in a hurry.

Minerva tried to protest, but before she even had the chance to get the second syllabus out, the French firmly gripped her shoulders and bend closer.

"This is very, very important." Hermione spoke slowly like she was guiding a 10-year-old through a difficult school subject: "Dumbledore needs to get the letter as soon as possible, understood?"

Minerva, for the lack of words, simply nodded.

Hermione attempted a half-hearted smile before running down the corridor, through the main gate and towards the small wizarding village.

XXX ABRAXAS's POVXXX

When the dark-cloaked wizards appeared, Abraxas immediately joined the Head Boy and other prefects who were dutifully helping younger students to vacate the street. With the 1st wizarding war at its peak, all perfects were preventively trained for emergencies like this, but from the looks of his school mates, Abraxas figured they never anticipated the battlefront reach so close to Hogwarts. Many wizards and witches ran mindlessly around like headless chickens and it was becoming painfully obvious how unprepared they were.

Turning back to check that no student got left behind, Abraxas stopped dead in his tracks. Just a couple yards away, stood Serena, partially leaning around the corner of a house, peaking at the group of black clothed wizards further down the street. How strange, he though. He could swear that she told him she wasn't allowed to Hogsmeade. Immediately, he raised his hand to wave her into their little hiding place, but the witch was not paying any attention. Why didn't she run like all the others?

He could see her looking around suspiciously, like she was making sure there were no witnesses. Then she pulled out her wand and mouthed some spell he did not recognize. As soon as the orange glow of her wand faded, her body slowly started to morph; her limbs lengthen and her face, slowly but surely, started to take on more mature, manly features until there stood an exact copy of Albus Dumbledore instead of foreign witch. The Malfoy heir frowned, unsure what the witch was up to.

He didn't have enough time to ponder about it, because Serena, now fully transformed to look like the Transfiguration professor, hastily stepped from her hiding spot into the street. None of the plundering wizards noticed her, still being busy capturing inexperienced students and whomever did not have a chance to hide. Grindelwald did not pay much attention either. Swiftly Serena flicked her wand and a flock of daggers sped straight towards the dark wizard. To Abraxas' surprise an invisible magic shield simultaneously appeared around the French wizard, effortlessly blocking all of the daggers. Grindelwald interrupted his shouting and turned in Serena's direction. The old wizard's face lit up to something vaguely resembling a very crooked, vicious smile.

"Albus, fancy to see you here, my old friend… are you ready to join me?" the word 'friend' was spat out with sour undertone, as if he was mocking the other mage.

Serena's hand clenched the wand little tighter: "Never"

When she spoke, Abraxas could tell she tried to make her voice as deep as she could to fit her Dumbledore look. "Let them go, Gellert." She frowned, motioning to a group of hostages, who were surrounded by Grindelwald's followers.

The older wizard's smile widened even more.

"Never." He mimicked Serena's previous answer and skillfully flicked his wand: "Too bad, Albus, we could have made history together."

"Let. Them. Go." Repeated the witch, her disguised voice trembling, but the older wizard seemed unaffected.

"Is it them you care for, Albus? Mudbloods?" Grindelwald grabbed one of the first-years by the collar demonstratively, his wand at the child's throat.

Serena leisurely waved her wand and a small otter partonus animal jumped out of the tip. But instead of attacking, as Abraxas expected, it took off towards the Hogwarts with an incredible speed.

"What was that?" asked the French wizard, raising his eyebrows delicately.

"Just notifying the authorities. They should be here any moment." Serena stated plainly. Grindelwald's face went from annoyed to angry, taking couple steps forward.

With a swift flick of his wand a strong gust of magic sped towards Serena, but she was ready, waving her own wand, creating a large fire ball, that smashed into Gellert's, throwing it of off its trajectory and crashing into the ground. The Slytherin witch didn't wait around and another fireball soon followed, ferociously clashing with Grindelwald's shield, and then another until the protective spell succumbed to the blasts and fallen apart. The older man just barely dodged the last flames as they easily pierced the remainders of the shield.

With Grindelwald's attention solely on Serena, there was nobody to direct his followers, who slowly started to disperse further and further apart. Malfoy smirked as he realized Serena's plan. The Dumbledore disguise was only supposed to serve as a distraction and surprisingly it was working. He hastily alerted Cygnus. Casting a simple invisibility charm, two Slytherins quickly sneaked past the attackers, who were far too busy either fighting or watching their leader's duel to notice them, and headed straight for the group of now-unguarded hostages. As fast as they could manage, they dispelled the binding charm on the students and quietly ushered them inside the first house they found. Once all students were safely put, Malfoy turned back to help Serena, but with horror found out that it was too late.

Grindelwald's spell crashed into Serena's shield with such power, it threw her backwards, good ten feet off of the ground until her body smashed into a brick wall of a candy store. Her, or actually Dumbledore's, body motionlessly slit onto the ground. Abraxas could see that the witch was slowly losing control of her transformation spell and her hands, legs, face and hair were returning back to their original form. Shaking, Serena attempted to stand up, but the last bit of consciousness left her and she fell back onto the stony sidewalk. Grindelwald angrily stormed up to her lifeless body, grabbed fistful of her dark mane and roughly pulled her up to inspect her face, angered by her deceit.

"I think that is enough, Gellert." The soft familiar voice broke the silence, and everybody who was still present turned to see the real Dumbledore, standing alone in the middle the empty street. His expression was calm, almost sad.

"Are you now sending students to fight your battles, Albus?" spat the French, while shaking Serena's head to prove a point. With that done, he dropped the unconscious body back onto the dirt. Abraxas noticed a small stream of blood trickling down from her lips, over her chin, disappearing somewhere in her hair. He couldn't help but wonder if she was still alive.

"It is over, Gellert." Sighed Dumbledore, and about thirty Aurors appeared all around, attacking the hooded man and securing the non-combatants. That's when Abraxas, and some other people, got shoved inside of a building and ordered to stay put until told otherwise. Through the small crack in window shutters he could see adults with wands running systematically around as the battle raged on. Due to all the havoc none of them bothered to check on the French girl still laying near the candy shop. Angry to be trapped without an opportunity to help, Abraxas sat down against one of the walls, head in his hands, and waited.

Almost an hour later, a middle-aged Auror with flushed face and sweaty hands finally freed them from the building and politely asked them to remain calm and return to their dorms as soon as possible. The danger has passed. Abraxas walked into the street and his eyes immediately searched for Serena. She was still unconscious and utterly ignored. He was about to walk over to her, when he noticed Dumbledore slowly limping in the same direction. Despite his emotionless expression, the older wizard look exhausted, his left arm and leg were bleeding and large part of his attire was either burned or torn. Still the old wizard stumbled to the girl, gently picked her body up in his arm and with an audible 'crack' apparated away.

TBC


	22. Mirrors Never Lie

November 25th, 1943 – A week after Grindelwald's defeat

Hermione sighed for the fiftieth time that evening, as another admirer enthusiastically shook Dumbledore's hand and spewed another load of their never-ending gratitude and appraisal into the wizard's face.

The Great Hall was filled with laughter and merriment, hundreds of candles lit the magical ceiling into the bright colors of setting sun and everyone present was happily chatting the night away. The long mahogany table in far back of the room, where teachers usually ate, was replaced by an enormous periwinkle blue banner, which showed a portrait smiling Dumbledore and a word "hero" printed in bold, capital letters below. Students' tables were also removed in favor of Dumbledore-themed decorations and snack bars, while the center of the hall temporarily served as a make-do dance floor for the party attendees.

Hermione watched Dumbledore's forced smile waver as a large gift box was pushed into his arms by a snobbish-looking Ministry official, who excitedly waved to the Daily Prophet's press assembly. Unfortunately, the man of the hour did not seem to enjoy the celebration very much. All things considered, it was actually unsurprising, Hermione figured. This event was organized to celebrate Dumbledore's mighty victory over a war criminal and the darkest wizard of the century, Gellert Grindelwald. From the future, she knew that Grindelwald and Dumbledore were once friends, and even though she wasn't sure of the depth of the feelings, from Dumbledore's expression it was obvious that Gellert's defeat and subsequent imprisonment was not the desired outcome.

She wasn't quite sure what occurred between the two friends once Grindelwald's spell knocked her unconscious, but the school nurse told her that when Dumbledore'd brought her into the Hospital Wing, he was barely holding himself upright. That was nearly a week ago. Since then, she heard many stories describing the battle, some little more imaginative than others. She'd even overheard Nott telling Septimus that Riddle was quite upset to miss such important event as he did not have a guardian signed permit to visit Hogsmeade. To be honest, she haven't seen much of young Voldemort since the legilimency incident few weeks ago. After forcefully exposing Riddle's personal memories, she expected a retaliation, but it was almost like Riddle has shun away from her. She had barely seen him outside of the Dueling practice…

Her eyes drifted to where most of the Slytherins gathered in a corner, and naturally Tom Riddle was between them. As opposed to others, he did not seem one bit interested in the big celebration or friendly chatter. He sat comfortably at one of the tables, a heavy looking book in front of him, reading. From her position, Hermione could only make out the title: Potions Made Easy. She frowned. Firstly, she has NEVER heard of a book with that particular title- it sounded almost too muggle for a potion book- and, secondly, beginner potions were way below Riddle's level of knowledge. So, why would he be reading it?

Still pondering Voldemort's sudden interest in 1st year literature, her eyes moved along the group until they met Malfoy heir, staring right back at her. The blonde's lips curved the slightest bit as he lifted his glass to her in greeting. Nervously, she smiled back.

Something changed, she could tell. Ever since the battle with Grindelwald, Abraxas acted differently towards her, more serious, even more proper. When she first woke up in the Infirmary, to her surprise and nurses' great dismay, her bed and nightstand were flooded with crimson-red roses to the point that she could barely walk to the bathroom without stepping on some. Courtesy of young Master Malfoy, said the nurse annoyed as she had to step over some so she could hand Hermione her medicine. Indeed, the young man came to visit her every day, asking her if she was feeling better and demanding that she tells him if she needed something. Few other people came to visit her as well, including Septimus, Minerva and Dorea, but those visits were short and formal. On the last day of her stay in the hospital wing, Abraxas came to visit her with a whole group of their friends. Hermione was bit puzzled to find Letitica missing. As Malfoy's fiancé, she was always at Abraxas' side, quiet and supportive like a good future wife. In truth, Hermione was a bit afraid that Letitica had found out about their little love affair and caused a scene. So far this long-term liaison was kept secret, but Hermione was pretty sure Septimus and Cygnus knew or at least suspected. But nobody mentioned anything, so she assumed the Slyherin girl had other reasons for her absence, and more importantly, that her secrets stayed secrete. As the group was getting ready to leave and let her rest, Abraxas'd stood up and as gentlemanly as ever took her hand in his and kissed it. Then out of nowhere, he had asked her if she would visit him at the Malfoy Manor during the winter holiday. As soon as the question left his mouth, Belvina and Dorea gasped simultaneously, while Thaddeus almost choked on some chocolate he was eating. Cygnus was the only one who did not appear to be that surprised, but still raised his eyebrow questioningly. Not quite understanding their obvious surprise, Hermione politely replied that it depends whether Headmaster Dippet permits her to leave Hogwarts, to which Abraxas smiled brightly and left the Hospital Wing like nothing had happened.

Shaking her head at the puzzling memories, she lazily waved at Abraxas and slowly moved towards the spot where Dumbledore stood just a seconds ago. She figured she should also give her appraisal to the hero. Unfortunately for her, the older wizard was no longer in the presence of attention-seeking Ministry employees. Quickly, she scanned the area for any signs of him, but found nothing. Just as she was about to give her search up, she noticed a blur of bright orange disappearing through the nearby exit at the edge of her peripheral vision. Hastily, yet still trying to keep some level of nonchalance, she sat down the cup of pumpkin juice she was holding onto ever since the event started and swiftly headed after Dumbledore.

It took a bit of looking but she have finally found him in one of the adjacent rooms, alone, standing in front of a familiar glassy surface of the Mirror of Erised. Almost all window curtains in the room were pulled shut, allowing only minimum of moonlight to reach the stone floor, embracing the whole space in darkness and offering peaceful solace to anyone who might wish it.

Quietly shutting the door behind her, Hermione took a few steps forward until she stood shoulder to shoulder with the wizard.

"Professor Dumbledore." She spoke softly, as if attempting to cause as little disturbance in the stillness that enveloped them as possible.

His eyes focused on the reflective surface, he responded: "Yes?"

Dumbledore's voice sounded so hollow and defeated, Hermione's heart broke just hearing it and for a moment she weighed her options. She could simply pretend not to notice, express her admiration and leave. Conversely, she could stay and comfort the man that will one day become one of her personal heroes and idols.

She let a soft sigh escape her lips. The decision was made before she even considered all the options.

"I am really sorry…" she whispered, unsure of her own words. Lightly as a feather, she put her hand on his robed arm. She could see his pain-filled eyes drift off of the mirror onto the floor, probably wishing her gone. She swallowed thickly.

"I know how hard it is to have to fight against somebody who was once dear to you."

Instantly, Dumbledore's eyes shot open and his head finally turned to face her. The crystal clear blue orbs met hers with a unexpected force, but she did not waver, opening her mind and showing her honest emotions for him to see. If he chose to probe her mind right now he could easily see everything- the past, the present and the future, but for some unknown reason, he chose not to. His expression softened, no longer speaking of hostility and distrust, only sadness. His gaze returned to the mirror and Hermione let her hand fall back to her side. For the first time since she walked into the room, she allowed herself to look at the mirror. She had to admit, she was scared to look and even more terrified of what she might see. The last time she looked onto the mirrored plane was almost seven years ago; she was sixteen then and saw herself getting married to Ron and accepting the position of Minister of Magic. She was so naïve then. Unwanted tears stung at the corners of her eyes at the memory. Where did the time go? What would she see now? Would it be Draco, Harry, or something entirely different? She was scared of the answer…

"I show not your face, but your heart's deepest desire." She read the inscription out loud. Not willing to face the silent professor, she kept her eyes on the carved wooden frame.

"Do you see him in the mirror?" she whispered. "Grindelwald, I mean." She added for clarity.

"yes." Answered Dumbledore just as quietly as she. His hand moved to touch crystal surface, but stopped mere millimeter away. Then it fell back to his side. There was a pause.

"Tell me, Miss Durand," Hermione cringed at hearing her fake name said with such trust, but waited patiently nevertheless: "do you know the concept of geminos voluntatem?"

Quickly going through the very shallow well of Latin knowledge she had acquired over the years, Hermione guessed: "Does it have to do with twins and free will?"

"Yes and no," answered the professor cryptically and the corners of his mouth shot upwards.

"The correct translation would be 'twins by will', I believe." He declared softly, tilting his head forward to better see the reflection in the mirror. His half-moon shaped glasses slid down his nose, so he carefully pushed them back up.

"This concept has been declared 'too falsifiable' by the United Council of Wizardry in 1765, so it isn't surprising that you haven't heard of it." He smiled gently and continued: "The basic idea is that each wizard or a witch is born with their own pool of source magic from which they draw to perform spells and charms."

"Yes, the theory of Infinite Magic Sourcing. Nicholas Flannel has written an essay explaining how different people leave different imprints when performing wandless spells…" nodded Hermione, letting her inner bookworm show.

Dumbledore nodded: "Right you are. Geminos voluntatem builds on this. It claims that, rarely, two wizards belong to the same source magic pool, making them, magically speaking, like two exact copies."

"So, was-uh…was Gellerd Grindelwald your gemini voluntatem?"

A sad smile appeared on older man's face and his shoulders sunk: "Unfortunately, he was not."

"Unfortunately, sir?" asked Hermione, confused wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows.

"For years, I've been hoping that he is. I was hoping that it would allow me to deal with his obsessive nature. That it would allow me to deal with this so that it wouldn't end as it has…" his voice trailed off and there was another pause.

"How did you know? How did you know that it he wasn't connected to you?" the witch hated to pry on his privacy but her curiosity got the best of her.

"The Mirror" he stated simply, pointing to the smooth glass in front of them, this time letting his fingers brush the surface.

Hermione followed his motion, unconvinced: "How could the mirror tell?"

"The mirror, just like any other magical object, creates the image you see based on your magical markers and it therefore cannot distinguish between geminos voluntatem. Were Gellerd to have the same magic imprint, I would not see my own reflection, but his."

Hermione nodded in understanding.

"So what exactly does it mean to have a gemini voluntatem?"

"That is indeed the million dollar question, Miss Durand" smiled Dumbledore: "Since it is so rare occurrence, no professionally supervised study was ever conducted, so the resources to answer your question are limited at best. There are, however, few preserved notes from people who believed to have such experience." He paused to look at her.

"Most describe it as literality being able to read each other's mind without any use of magic or bending each other's control of the magic…. Some even say that they were able to transport objects between themselves, but that might be a little farfetched."

Hearing this, Hermione started to feel sick. All the things Dumbledore just described seemed way too familiar to her, way too close to home. But that was impossible, her mind screamed. Could HE be her gemini voluntatem? Was it even real? All the symptom- everything- was there, right in front of her. Her heart pounded in her ears, stress finally taking over.

"Would you like to take a look, Miss Durand?" asked Dumbledore, catching her disbelievingly staring at the magical mirror, and before she could refuse, the older wizard had already stepped aside and let her gracefully in front of the object.

Hermione took a deep breath and forced her eyes to open, but instead of her own amber eyes in the reflection, she found an obsidian-colored ones staring right back. Suppressing the urge to cry out, the young witch took a good look at the image presented. A perfect replica of young Tom Riddle stood where her own reflection should be. His charcoal hair fell unkempt over his eyes, ends just barely brushing the sharp curve of his perfectly sculptured, pale cheekbones. Just like herself, he was dressed in proper formal attire with only one exception- his usual tie of green and silver was gone and replaced by a plain black one. Hesitantly, the witch watched as Riddle's arm risen in synchronization with her own, fingers stretched forward in anticipation of meeting at the threshold of the mirror plane. When her palm finally landed on the surface, reaching Tom's, she really expected something to happen- surge of magic, feeling of darkness to overtake her soul, anything to signal that this was mere magic playing tricks on her….But nothing happened. Nothing. Young Voldemort's image was just as still as she.

"Is..is the mirror always true?" she could barely force the words past her lips, because in all honesty, she knew the answer already. The Mirror never lies.

Dumbledore sighed and gently squeezed her shoulder: "Do not dwell on what you see, miss Durand. After all, some of the things the mirror shows can never be achieved."

Startled Hermione could only hope Dumbledore can see the gratitude she felt towards him. For fighting the foes, for saving Harry, for helping her.

The music coming from the Great Hall suddenly slowed to a steady tempo of waltz and Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with mirth: "Ah, I believe the last dance of the night is starting." Then he turned to Hermione, offering her his arm like a true gentleman: "Would you do me the honor and join me for this dance, Miss Durand?"

And with that they walked out of the small room, leaving the mirror locked in an empty room, away from prying eyes.

TBC


	23. New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will be continuing soon :)

December 10th, 1943 –The Winter Break begins

AN:mild swearing ahead..

The cold wind blew through the valley, tossing and twisting Hermione's curls, and immensely annoying the witch. Tucking most of the loose strands away from her face and underneath her woolen hat, she continued dragging her feet through the deep snow towards the horseless carriages at the school gates. She couldn't believe she got persuaded to see her new Slytherin 'friends' off before they board the train home for the winter holidays. Normally, she would not bother and simply come up with some lie as to why she couldn't go, but Dorea Black was quite insistent and had pestered Hermione until she'd agreed to meet them.

"Well, f**k!" Hermione cursed loudly as the ice covering a small puddle below gave out and her left foot almost completely disappeared in freezing muddy water.

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, Durand?" laughed Thaddeus, while Cygnus offered to help get her foot out of the mud.

"Why, jealous?" shot back annoyed Hermione, quickly drying her wet shoe with heating charm.

Thaddeus, with a very sly grin planted on his face, leaned ostentatiously close to her face and whispered: "Hmm…and if I am, are you going to 'kiss' it better?"

Mimicking his sickly sweet tone, Hermione responded: "No, but I COULD take the BIGGEST icicle I can find and shove it up your-"

"Thaddeus!" Dorea's high-pitched voice sounded behind them. Both Slytherins immediately stopped their bickering and turned towards the group of newcomers let by irritated Dorea. The group consisting of Belvina, Septimus and Marius quickly approached the three Slytherins ahead of them.

"Thaddeus Victor Lestrange, don't you dare bothering Serena!" scowled Dorea at her fiancé, forcefully pulling him towards the carriages. Too self-satisfied, and for good measure, Hermione stuck her tongue out at Thaddeus' retreating form.

The whole group gathered at one of the carriages and started to load their trunks and other baggage, when Marius suddenly slapped his forehead, reached into his pocket and pulled out a large envelope.

"I almost forgot, Serena, headmaster sends you this" he said, handing her the envelope.

Hermione frowned: "What is it?"

"Your official permit to visit Malfoy Manor, I think" shrugged Marius, leisurely tossing his knapsack inside the carriage.

"Ah…" nodded the witch and pocketed the document.

Belvina, who was so far completely silent, turned to Hermione with an excited expression: "Are you going to see him, Serena?"

Raising eyebrows at the girl's unnecessary excitement, Hermione just shrugged her shoulders: "Yeah, probably. Abraxas seems like a nice person…"

Hermione still wasn't sure how much the Slytherins knew about the nature of her and Abraxas' relationship so she decided to stick with the most non-descript answers she could muster.

"A nice person?" asked Belvina disbelievingly, as if Hermione just denied the existence of magic all together.

Unsure, the bushy haired witch frowned. What is wrong with her statement?

"Yes. I mean… we have become good friends, I would say." Stated Hermione. Belvina bit her lip nervously and Dorea, who was already seated inside the carriage, poked her head out of the small window.

"Oh no, silly." Dorea laughed in her rich voice: "He has invited you, so his parents can meet you."

"Eh…Why?" asked Hermione, more confused than ever. Why would the Malfoys want to meet her?

Obviously her question must have sounded little more strained than she had hoped, because Belvina gently petted her arm, saying: "Oh, don't worry, darling. Here, in England, it is a tradition for the parents to meet the girl their son wants to marry."

What?

Suddenly everything went still… well, at least in Hermione's head. She was positive that if she have had a drink in her mouth, she would have choked.

"M-m-marry?" she managed to squeak out through her slowly constricting throat. Hoping that this was just a very bad dream or the biggest prank anyone ever pulled on her, Hermione's mind raced at the speed of light.

How did this happen? Wasn't Abraxas engaged to Letitica?

No, the idea of Abraxas wanting to…she couldn't even bring her mind to say it…the idea was just preposterous!

Dorea laughed at Hermione's frightened expression, likely mistaking it for shyness, and assured the witch: "Of course, he wants to marry you, darling!"

"Yeah, why else would he break off his engagement to Letitica…" commented Cygnus plainly, like he was describing the weather, and stepped into the cart.

Well, there went the last hope that this was just some sort of a mistake. This time Hermione's brain actually screamed. This was not supposed to happen! Their liaison was never supposed to go this far. Abraxas was supposed to marry Letitica and father that piece-of-sh**t son Lucius, who will in turn become father to the love of her life. Now everything was wrong...because of her!

Tears of despair reached the corners of her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away and attempted to smile as she waved at the retreating carriage containing her Slytherins classmates. By the time the vehicle finally disappeared behind the hill, tears were freely streaming down Hermione's cheeks.

This time she really screwed up.

How could she be so stupid? What if Draco wouldn't ever be born?

Tears still clouding her vision, Hermione turned around to head back to Hogwarts, but her body unexpectedly collided with another.

"Sorry..." she whispered, her voice sounding sullen, and hastily wiped the moisture from her eyes. As soon as her cheeks were acceptably dry, she looked up to apologize yet again for being so careless, but the words died on her lips. The person, she so unfortunately ran into, was Tom Marvolo Riddle himself. Hurriedly, she took a step back, forcing all the haze veiling her eyes to dissipate.

The younger wizard simply stood motionlessly in front of her like a marble statue. Even though his skin was sickly pale as always, the top of his cheekbones were reddened from the cold wind and hair tussled. Their eyes met and Hermione could swear she saw glossy moisture rimming the bottom lash lines of his eyes, but it was gone with a single blink. Was he…crying? The discussion with Dumbledore immediately popped to her mind- what if there was really a connection between them beyond their control? What if to some degree he was forced to experience everything she did and vice versa? One thing was for sure- Riddle looked just as distressed as her. Hermione's gaze traveled down from his red-rimmed eyes, over the narrow tip of his nose, across his pale lips and sharp jawline until it settled on his chest, where a familiar octagonal pendant glowed brightly. Involuntarily, her fingers twitched, suddenly too eager to touch the glowing jewelry, but Riddle noticed the direction of her attention and before she could even attempt anything he quickly tugged the strange jewelry into his coat and frowned at the witch. With a single movement, he pushed her aside and walked straight past her towards the remaining carriages, never looking back or otherwise acknowledging her existence.

With her mind still swirling around recent events and discoveries, Hermione was determined to finish this once and for all, no matter the consequence. This whole mess had to be resolved and the only thing she needed was a good plan.

TBC


End file.
